Clockwork
by Gorshenin
Summary: AU. They said she was just a pretty face, a model fed lines to sell a product. But if you squinted, there was more to Santana Lopez than they gave her credit for, and reporter Brittany Pierce was going to get to the bottom of it. Brittana/Faberry
1. Chapter 1

AU Brittana with a hint of Faberry.

* * *

><p>"...as you can see the new interface systems will work much more efficiently..."<p>

They weren't listening to a word she was saying and Santana knew it. She knew it by the way their eyes glassed over and they vacant nods they would offer at times, leaning to each other and whispering snide comments, earning a smirks and grins from the guys next to them.

"...The design has been a few years in the making, the IT team at Clockwork and myself have been working on integrating it flawlessly with an upgrade to our older models without too much customer hassle..."

A few of them were openly leering at her, eyes roaming, they hadn't once looked at the display for the new IT model, not once. She wanted to scream. She wanted to take her years worth of computer programing and circuit mapping and smash it over the creeps heads. She was nothing but a pretty face to them, nothing but a _fantasy_.

That was her sell, or "Gimick" as the guys in marketing told her, she was what they were looking for to cater to a certain demographic. The 15-35 year old computer nerd demographic who could never get a date, let alone talk to a girl in person. So they found a beautiful woman to draw these people to their products, no need to mention her prestigious degrees in computer science, information technology, and computerized robotics and engineering, no none of that mattered. All that mattered to them was that she looked nice for the shows, smiled, and talked about their products.

No one believed that she was actually apart of the IT team, hell, she _lead_ the IT Department, but the general consensus was that it was just for show. They thought she was just fed lines to read off to cameras at conventions, but she knew it all by heart. She could do it in her sleep, but all people saw was a pretty face.

Sometimes she believed it too.

They called her IT Barbie, and that pissed her off more than anything because she wasn't tall, blonde, or even white. She wasn't a ditz, and she sure as hell had more attitude than_ Barbie_. It was a nickname one of her competitors had started using when her IT systems became more popular than theirs last season. The name stuck and now it was all over the industry. One of their marketing guys had suggested she roll with it an dye her hair.

She punched him in the face.

After that she was assigned a handler, a Miss Quinn Fabray. She handled her schedule, PR, and acted as a middle man between Corporate Marketing and Santana Lopez, Head of the IT Department of Technology.

"...We are hoping to get these models out on the market this season. Are their any questions?"

No. There were never any questions, how could there be questions when they hadn't listened to a thing she said. She played absently with a pen behind her back, a nervous habit she had when she was talking in public.

"Miss Lopez," a short little man spoke up. He reminded her of a hobbit, short and squat and needing a shower. "Is it true that you are going to be posing for Maxim this spring?"

The pen she was holding behind her back snapped in half, the only one to notice was Quinn who was at her side in an instant, a firm grip on the Latina's elbow.

"Santana we need you in the back," she offered the group a sweet smile, "technical difficulties."

They laughed, thinking it was a joke. A joke on her, as if she would ever be able to actually help with things like that. She conceded to Quinn's insistent tug on her elbow, and followed her into the back area reserved for members of the companies showing products on the floor. They found their reserved cubical and Quinn had Santana sit in a chair, telling her she would be right back. Santana was glad for her absence, she let out a shaky breath she hadn't known she was holding.

She needed to calm down and to keep herself from showing how much this was actually bothering her. And not in a 'I'm going to punch someone kind of way,' more like a 'this makes me feel so bad about myself, I just might cry,' sort of thing. She threw her broken pen across the cubical and pushed all the bad feelings down, it was nothing, that hobbit was nothing. He didn't know her, what she was capable of, he doesn't matter. None of it matters. Moments later Quinn returned, offering her friend a cold bottle of water.

"Why did he say that?" Santana worked the cap off and took a sip. She was glad that her voice came across as annoyed and nothing gave away her near meltdown.

"Say that crap about Maxim?" Quinn leaned on a table, crossing her arms over her chest and shrugged. "It's just wishful thinking."

"You mean corporate isn't trying to push me into becoming IT Barbie Swimsuit Edition?" Santana eyed the blonde in front of her.

Quinn was smart, she knew how to play the game, she knew how to get people to do things she wanted, and she also knew Santana, better than anyone. They had known each other since high school, went to the same college, moved to the city together, and when Santana had hit it off in IT Department at Clockwork Technologies, Quinn applied for a Human Resources position. Santana's hassle with the marketing people made hiring Quinn that much easier after Santana told them that she would quit if they didn't.

"Well, Jesse might have said something about it," Quinn studied her nails so she wouldn't have to look at Santana's glare, "but it was in passing, a joke, no one would ever ask you to do that."

"Quinn why didn't you tell me?" Santana was careful to keep her voice down. The cubicle was hardly soundproof, it didn't even have a door, and she didn't want this conversation getting picked up by and idiots down at marketing or, even worse, her competitors.

"Because its _not_ something he's interested in pushing on you," Quinn explained with a stern voice. "He can't ask you to do it, it's in your contract remember? You had me put that in exclusively, you even gave me a list of magazines you wouldn't work with and Maxim is on it."

"He can't ask me outright, but if this gets too big a buzz I could get strong armed into doing it _'for the fans,'_" Santana made quotation marks with her fingers sarcastically. "You know they pull that shit all the time."

"I know," Quinn held out her hands, admitting Santana had a point was the first way to make her calm down, "but I've been playing damage control all day, trust me on this Santana."

They eyed each other before Santana yielded and leaned back in her chair. "Fine. And thanks for getting me away from that dwarf, I was about to stab him in the face."

Quinn snorted lightly through her nose, rolling her eyes, "I saw. I almost let you do it too."

"You should have," Santana shook her head, "now that would have been something to put in a magazine."

The blonde watched her friend for a moment, she had calmed down yes, but she could tell that all of this was really getting to her on a deeper level.

Quinn knew that nothing would make Santana happier than to just go back to the computer lab and forget all about being _The Face of Clockwork_. It had been hard for her, to adjust to that kind of image, in grad school Santana had settled into a niche about not worrying about her looks, what she was wearing, who she was dating. She completely dropped off the social scene they had established in Junior college to focus on her studies and an work projects to get her internships that would ultimately get her the job at Clockwork. Quinn soon followed suit, realizing that there was no time for partying if they wanted to become as successful as they had hoped to be one day. They had made it in a small way, and Quinn was glad that they were together to share it.

"Come on," Quinn stood, glancing at her watch, "you have two more presentations and an interview before we can call this a night."

"Who's the interview with?" Santana asked, standing to follow her friend. Quinn pulled out her smart-phone and looked at the schedule.

"Magazine covering the convention," Quinn read. "Reporter named Brittany Pierce."

"At least it's a chick," Santana sighed, "and I wont have to watch her stare at my boobs the whole time."

Quinn laughed, "You never know."

* * *

><p>Brittany looked around quietly, she wasn't really sure what was going on, what everyone was talking about, or what the displays were all about... computers were never her strong point. She played idly with the badge on her vest pocket that clearly labeled her as member of the press. She had lost Artie, the display she had just left was a little too interesting to <em>not<em> look at for fifteen minuets, but now she was kind of regretting it. She needed to find Artie so he could show her where the girl she was supposed to interview was.

Artie knew who she was from their industry, he worked for this place called Orbit Tech and did computer things, and that was really all Brittany knew about it. She sighed, she knew her supervisor only assigned her this convention because she was dating someone involved.

It wasn't even that big a piece, but Brittany was glad for any sort of work, her editor didn't have that much confidence in her yet and she needed to do this right to prove herself and make that jump from reporter to journalist. The only problem was, if she couldn't find Santana Lopez for the interview then she would be in a bit of trouble.

She wandered to the area of the convention floor with the Clockwork signs, she knew Lopez worked for Clockwork... she was an IT Department Head and Artie said her nickname was IT Barbie. She looked around Clockwork's displays, she took a few pictures of them for the article. Looking through the sight, she turned her lens to her left, following the voice that was being amplified softly through a microphone.

She had seen pictures of Santana Lopez on the internet while she was researching questions she would ask, but she didn't feel that any of them did her justice in person. Brittany twisted her lens, zooming in as best she could, the woman was stunning. The dark curls falling over her shoulders, the naturally tanned skin, her attentive and focused eyes held a hit of light as she talked about something she loved, something she was proud of, her technology.

She took a few quick shots as Santana walked through the rest of her presentation, displaying the new technology her team was putting on the market next season. Brittany lowered her camera and watched her through the rest of the reveling. When Santana opened the floor to questions Brittany bit her lip, she hadn't understood everything about the technology Santana was showing, and she was too nervous to ask and make it known that she didn't really belong here.

One man raised a hand and asked, "Who came up with the idea for the new design?"

"Well, the concept had been in the making since before the last model was released," Santana answered, "but the key framework to the newer model was developed and produced by myself and my colleague, Mike Chang, who couldn't be here tonight."

"Mike Chang developed the software for the previous system right?" another man asked. Brittany watched Santana's face closely, her eyes darken but the smile on her face never wavered.

"Mike and I developed that software together," Santana kept her voice even, diplomatic. "He's never said otherwise."

The men nodded and Santana answered a few questions about things Brittany couldn't quite make sense of. She watched Santana answer their questions clearly and with no hesitation. She knew what she was talking about. People dispersed slowly, a few men stayed and tried to talk to Santana personally but a blonde woman kept them at bay.

Brittany started in their direction, putting her camera back into its bag over her shoulder. She took a deep breath and stepped into the brunette's line of sight, holding out her hand and saying, "Brittany Pierce, I think we have a date for an interview?"

"Santana Lopez, Head of IT at Clockwork Tech," the brunette said slowly, taking her hand firmly. She looked the reporter up and down, fashionable to say the least. Her gray slacks matched the tweed vest and ascot over a white blouse. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose bun with curls pouring out of a news boy cap. The badge hanging from her vest assured her Santana that she was actually in the press and not a model dressing the part.

Brittany smiled when she noticed the angry lines around her chocolate brown eyes disappeared. Santana gathered her thoughts and gestured to the blonde next to her, "This is Quinn Fabray, Public Relations."

Quinn smiled and took Brittany's hand, "I was the one you spoke to over the phone last week."

"Oh," Brittany's face lit up in recognition, "well, it's nice to meet you."

"Same," Quinn nodded.

"When's a good time for you?" Brittany asked Santana. "I know you just finished with your showing, I can come back in a few—"

Santana shook her head, "Now is fine with me if you're up for it. You're my last obligation to this convention and I really just want to get home."

"Um... right," Brittany's smile faltered suddenly feeling like she was wasting the brunette's time, Quinn noticed and elbowed the brunette softly.

"She didn't mean it like that," Quinn gave her friend a pointed look.

"She's right," Santana pinched the bridge of her nose lightly, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry, it just been a long day."

"Do you get that a lot?" Brittany asked softly, "people thinking Mike Chang should get all the credit?"

Santana's hand fell from her face and her eye's shot open, surprised at the audacity of the question. Quinn seemed surprised too, and she glanced from Santana to Brittany and back trying to gauge her friends reaction and figure out what kind of damage control would be needed. Surprising her friend, Santana just looked at the blonde, and they stared at each other for a heart beat before Santana spoke.

"The IT developer's at Clockwork are a team," Santana's voice was a practiced tone that reminded Brittany of someone reading a long boring speech. The pleasant look on her face never wavered, she was composed, elegant, intelligent, and Brittany could see the clouds in her eyes. "We work together to develop and provide the best possible tech for the market."

"I would be upset too," Brittany offered a small smile, shifting her camera bag on her shoulder lightly.

"I'm not upset, do I look upset?" It was an honest question, because she was sure she didn't look like she was about to cry, even if that was exactly what she wanted to do. Santana turned to Quinn who opened her mouth and closed it again, still too shocked to say anything.

"Not on the outside, you hide it well," Brittany reassured her with another smile. Then changed the subject abruptly, "Did want to go somewhere to do the interview or is here fine?"

"We have a place in the back," Quinn interjected, taking hold of Santana's elbow and pulling her along, motioning for Brittany to follow.

* * *

><p>Santana sat across a table from the blonde, Quinn had procured a meeting room for their interview, and after placing two bottles of cold water next to the women, she left to attend to other business. The brunette watched as Brittany set up her things, a small blue notebook, a digital voice recorder, a pen, she set her camera bag down on the floor and picked up the bottle of water, taking a small sip.<p>

As she screwed the cap back on she smiled warmly at Santana, who had yet to say anything since she being placed in the room. Brittany picked up the small voice recorder, "Do you mind if I use this?"

"Knock yourself out," Santana shrugged. A little light turned red and Brittany set it down.

The reporter rattled off the date, time, name of the convention with a business like tone then turned her attention to Santana, "...Where I, Brittany Pierce, will be interviewing the lovely Santana Lopez, Head of IT at Clockwork Technologies."

Santana flushed lightly under Brittany's playful gaze.

"Miss Lopez," Brittany started, flipping through the notebook to a page that had her interview notes on it. "Tell me about the products you're showcasing for the spring season from Clockwork Tech."

The interview went well, Brittany asked questions about the new systems, the updates and changes to be expected to the old system. She asked how Santana liked the conventions, what other conventions Clockwork will be showing at. She asked about the competitors market and what Santana thought of their products and Santana answered with political grace and made sure not to outright insult anyone, that was never good PR.

"I think that's all I need, thank you Miss Lopez," Brittany smiled and clicked off her recorder. She closed her notebook and started packing up her things.

"Of course," Santana stood as Brittany did and they headed to the door, Santana opening it for the blonde.

"Thank you," Brittany sent her a small smile that immediately died on her lips as she looked around.

"I'll show you back if you want," Santana offered, realizing that Brittany might be a little lost.

"That would be amazing," she laughed at herself. "I'm horrible with directions."

"It's alright, this place is built like a maze anyway," Santana started off towards the main floor and Brittany fell into step.

"Why are you covering the convention?" Santana asked abruptly, wondering if this girl was genuinely interested in the subject matter or was just put here to fill a slot. "I mean, I'm sure you don't get to pick your assignments, but was there a reason you're here for the convention?"

Brittany laughed softly, "My boyfriend works for Orbit, so they threw me on it."

"Oh," Santana's eyes narrowed slightly, of course she had a boyfriend, of course he worked for Orbit. "So why are you interviewing me? Our companies are huge rivals."

"I know that now," Brittany rolled her eyes, "but I set up the interview before I realized. I don't know anything about this industry, and honestly, I guess I don't care either way. No offense."

Santana shrugged, thinking apathy was better than hostility, "None taken."

"I wanted to interview you because when I Googled the list of people that were going to be showcasing," Brittany explained with a small smile. "You were the only girl, and I thought that was pretty cool."

The brunette nodded, unsure of what to say, so she just kept walking. They made it out to the main floor and Santana looked around and spotted Quinn with a couple of guys from her department, the blonde waved and mouthed, '_one minute_.'

"It was nice meeting you Miss Lopez," Brittany caught her eyes, and held out her hand again.

Santana took it for a final shake. Brittany's hand was warm in hers, and so much softer than her own. She found herself not wanting to let go, "Thank you, for your time."

"You know, I'm not big into technology or electronics, or stuff like that... it took me a while to figure out my iPod," the blonde shrugged, embarrassed, but too honest to not say this, "but I can tell that you know what you're talking about, and that you love what you do."

Santana blinked, her eyes were watering. Was she about to cry? About something a complete stranger told her in a passing farewell? It was just so... _awesome_ to have someone say that to her.

_'I can tell you know what you're talking about.'_

That was what she had been fighting ever since she became The Face of Clockwork. That was what she had wanted to hear all day, for someone to actually listen to her and realize she deserved her place as Head of IT. She opened her mouth to say thank you but nothing came out, Brittany seemed to know she was having a moment because she reached out and gently squeezed Santana's arm.

"Brittany, there you are," a voice said from behind them, "are you finished with IT Barbie yet?"

The girls looked behind them and found the man who called to Brittany, and his wheelchair. Santana's lips formed a thin line, she was trying to keep her cool. She pushed it all down, everything down, she had no feelings, no thoughts. She just needed to get to Quinn and get home. She didn't want to know how Brittany knew Artie Abrams, Artie _fucking_ Abrams. She hoped to god that he wasn't the boyfriend she had mentioned.

"Artie," Brittany frowned at him, and Santana appreciated the chastising tone of her voice, but it also verified that Artie was probably her boyfriend. Artie didn't seem to care though.

He scoffed and sent an annoyed look to Santana.

"Abrams," Santana acknowledged, she wanted to insult him, she wanted to punch him even, but she wouldn't. Not when his girlfriend had just said the nicest thing to her. "Thanks again Miss Pierce," Santana said quietly too keep her voice steady. She turned to leave but Quinn had just arrived at her side.

"Ready?" Quinn asked, her brow furrowed when she noticed Santana's 'I'm barely holding it together' face. She turned to Brittany, "Have your office send me the article information, alright?"

"All about the publicity," Artie muttered from his wheelchair a few feet away.

"Okay, I will," Brittany smiled kindly, ignoring Artie, and keeping her eyes on Santana. "Nice meeting you both."

"Same to you," Quinn smiled back and she and Santana started to leave. "Nice to see you again, Abrams."

"Can't wait to see you in Maxim!" Artie called snidely from behind them.

Santana breathed deeply through her nose, she wasn't going to freak out, she wasn't. Not here, in front of everyone, that was the last thing she needed. IT Barbie going all PMS on a paraplegic. That would be _great_ for her image. Quinn wrapped an arm around her waist and they left the convention together. Quinn had their car brought around and Santana slunk into the passenger's seat as Quinn jumped behind the wheel. They pulled out of the convention in a silence that wasn't unusual between them.

"I don't care how many of those dweeby nerds want it," Santana mumbled, letting her head rest against the window and watching the city pass by. "I'm not doing Maxim, just to turn into some jack off material."

"Ew," Quinn scrunched up her nose at the thought.

"That's what I'm saying," Santana huffed.

"So, how was the interview?" Quinn asked to change the subject.

"Fine," Santana shrugged. "You know she picked me to interview because I was the only girl showcasing material at this stupid convention?"

"Really?" Quinn thought back, "She didn't mention that when we set it up."

"She kinda just said it in passing," the brunette said like it was no big deal, she didn't want to let on that the interview with the blonde had been her highlight of the whole convention for her.

* * *

><p>"Why were you acting like that to her?" Brittany's face was a mixture of disappointment and disbelief.<p>

"Because she doesn't deserve to be the Head of IT at anywhere," Artie rolled his eyes, "let alone at Clockwork."

"Why not?" Brittany crossed her arms over her chest. Why did he feel the same way as everyone else around here? Why didn't he want to give Santana credit for anything either?

"She's just a pretty face," he explained. "She's just a marketing ploy Clockwork uses to make people like their product. She doesn't actually know half the stuff she's talking about, it's all an act."

The blonde's eyebrows knitted together, "When I was interviewing her she knew what she was talking about."

"Brittany," Artie shook his head, this argument wasn't worth his time. "She could have been saying anything and you would have believed it because you don't know the first thing about computers. You have trouble turning one on."

Brittany clutched her bag a little tighter, "I... I guess you're right."

Artie knew he had hurt her feelings, "Brittany, I'm just saying that—"

"I'm gonna go," she gestured to her bag, walking further away, calling over her shoulder, "I have a lot to write."


	2. Chapter 2

If nothing else, Brittany would like to believe that she was honest.

It was one of the easiest things in the world to be. All you had to do was say how you feel and write what you think. She didn't understand why people wanted to lie all the time, when telling the truth was so simple. She supposed it was consequences. Not everyone liked being told; yes, I do think that dress makes you look fat. But maybe, one day, they would realize that she was just trying to help you out, and if you didn't want an honest answer, you shouldn't have asked. People weren't sincere by nature, they hid things, altered themselves, and conformed to the images they want the rest of the world to believe of them. Brittany never really understood that either.

Reporting made it easy to be honest. Her editors loved that she was clean cut, precise, and quite frank about her topics. That made for good reporting. It didn't help the people involved in the scandals, or the companies that thought they could get away with a few underhanded deals, but it made for good reporting.

Brittany wanted a little more than to state the facts, get a quote and throw in a picture. She wanted to tell a story. Really get her hands into something and figure out all the small details that would make other people just as interested as she was. She sat at her desk, the one facing the largest window in her apartment, and wrote about a woman she met that night.

Santana Lopez was just another woman hiding the truth. On the outside she was perfectly poised, charming, and beautiful… but Brittany had seen it in her eyes. Santana Lopez looked around and was bitter towards all the faces looking back. She didn't like the attention placed on her, she found it unnerving and perhaps even insulting. After all, she was there to showcase her work, not her body.

Brittany didn't deny that she enjoyed both; the work and Santana's body. Although, she didn't understand everything about the work, she defiantly could appreciate the woman's beauty, she was gorgeous. Perhaps that was the exact reason Santana was so bitter.

It wasn't hard to pull quotes from the interview, summarize the convention and pick out a few pictures to go along with the article; the hard part was trying to keep to the facts. She was being honest, of course, but her writing was getting away from her, wandering off into the realm of interpretation. Brittany was writing about Santana, not as a woman _at_ the convention, but as a woman _at odds_ with the convention. And it was true. Santana Lopez had been at the convention and Brittany got the impression that she was at war with everyone around her.

Not that Brittany could blame her, Santana was either disregarded or scrutinized by the majority of her fellow showmen. It would be hard not to walk around thinking everyone was out to get you. Santana had held herself well despite that fact. She had been cordial and welcoming to questions, answering them with all the composure of the other showmen and just a dash of class.

Santana Lopez was a woman fighting for her place in her industry and Brittany wondered if she was the only one that could see it.

* * *

><p>Quinn wasn't much of a cook, that was another talent of Santana's, but she could make a mean sandwich. She could make them just like Santana liked them and she took solace in that fact. She was currently making one of Santana's favorites, the kind Santana referred to as 'Shit Load of Meat on Wheat.' Quinn was going to make this sandwich, make herself one, and then sit in front of the TV and watch the marathon of America's Next Top Model. She finished Santana's sandwich and cut it in half, rectangles, not triangles. She was about to call down to Santana to come get her food when the doorbell rang.<p>

"If that's UPS, sign the damn thing get it down here," Santana's voice called up from the basement, "and don't fucking throw it this time!"

Quinn rolled her eyes, moving to the door, that was _one time_. It's wasn't her fault Santana couldn't catch to save her life. Needless to say the modem didn't make it.

"Maybe if you would get off your ass, and get it yourself, shit like that wouldn't happen!" she called back as she opened the door.

With a final huff, she turned to whoever was standing out on the steps. She expected a USP worker, maybe a middle-aged man with brown shorts and shirt but what she saw was quite the opposite, a tall blonde, with a nice pair of jeans and light blue smock top, and a small messenger bag over her shoulder. She stared for a moment, completely unsure of what Brittany Pierce was doing on her steps.

"Um hi," Brittany gave a little wave, she looked just as surprised to see Quinn. "You probably don't remember me, but I—"

"Brittany Pierce," Quinn interrupted her, "the reporter."

"Right, yeah that's me," Brittany smiled, looking a little more relaxed. "I was looking for Santana Lopez, Clockwork told me she lives here?"

"Clockwork gave you our address?" Quinn looked appalled. She was going to have a few words with Human Resources about this.

"Our?" Brittany asked raising an eyebrow with a lopsided grin. "So she does live here? With you?"

"Um yeah," Quinn's mind was trying to focus back on the girl in front of her and not the huge breach of security her company just infringed on. "She's inside, why don't you come in, I'll get her."

"Thank you," Brittany smiled walking though the door as Quinn held it open. "This wont take long, I just need to ask her some questions."

"About the convention article?" Quinn asked, closing the door behind them and leading Brittany into the house. "I thought that was already published? I read the write up you sent my office, I really liked the article Miss Pierce."

"Please, call me Brittany, and no, it's not about that," Brittany rummaged into her messenger bag and pulled out a manilla envelope. "But I do have this, it's not supposed to go on stands 'til tomorrow but I got a copy for Miss Lopez."

"Oh, let me see!" Quinn took the manilla envelope from the blonde and gestured for her to have a seat at the table with her. Quinn slid the magazine out and ran a finger over the cover with the gentleness of a... lover?

Brittany blinked, glancing around the house as if it would be written on the walls, and in a way it was. Pictures of the women, as women and as girls, decorated the walls and the fridge. She did say that they both lived here... and when she thought back, there was an awful lot of touching the other night at the convention. A lot of Quinn leading Santana around by the arm, or touching her waist. Brittany wanted to laugh at how she didn't see it before.

"This has probably been the best article about Santana in a long while," Quinn continued, "I wanted to thank you for giving her an honest look."

"I was just doing my job," Brittany flushed lightly, and hesitated, biting her lip lightly before asking, "Did she read it?"

Quinn gave her a sympathetic half frown, "She doesn't ever read the articles about her or her work. She never likes what they say."

"Oh," Brittany tried not to feel let down.

"But trust me, she wouldn't feel that way about your article," Quinn spoke honestly and Brittany believed her because she probably knew Santana better than anyone. "What did you need to talk to her about?"

"Um," Brittany fingered the table top lightly, "Well my editor, she really liked what I had to say and thought that maybe... there might be more to Santana's story than what I had started."

"You want to do another piece on Santana?" Quinn asked calmly. "At her next convention?"

"Not exactly," Brittany clarified. "Not at her next convention, or showing, or whatever, but just about Santana Lopez, who she is, where she came from, how she got to where she is now and why people in the industry are giving her such a hard time about it."

Quinn watched Brittany talk about her idea, she watched the light come to her eyes and her hands move in exploration gestures. Animated, this girl was animated. Quinn saw how much she wanted to do this, "You want to do an article on Santana Lopez... the person?"

Brittany nodded, "Not just an article, a full cover feature."

"Have you spoken to Clockwork about this?"

"A man named Johnathan Riley told me that if you and Miss Lopez were in, the company would back it," Brittany explained. Quinn nodded, she would have to discuss this with Johnathan. "He's the one that gave me her, well your address, so I could come pitch the idea."

"Hmm..." Quinn mulled it over in her head, she wondered if Santana would go for it. If there was _anything_ Santana hated more than publicity. She looked around as she thought, her eyes coming to a stop on the counter where Santana's sandwich was waiting. "I was just making lunch, would you like a sandwich?"

Brittany smiled, "I ate before I came over, but thank you."

"Well," Quinn stood, "How about you take Santana's down to her and you guys can talk about the article."

"Do you think she would be into it?" Brittany asked quietly, she was nervous. This would be the biggest story she had ever been trusted to do, this could make her career.

"I think if you come bearing food," Quinn set the plate on the table, "she will at least listen to what you have to say."

"Well that's a start," Brittany stood up and took the plate. "Where am I going?"

"She has a workshop in the basement, just down the hall, first door on the left," Quinn gestured down the hall and watched Brittany follow her directions.

She wasn't sure how Santana would react, let alone if she would actually go along with it. But something in the back of her head told her that Santana wouldn't mind seeing the blonde again. She sighed, and finished making her own sandwich before cleaning up and moving to the living room with the magazine Brittany had brought over. At least someone should enjoy it.

* * *

><p>Brittany took steady steps as she walked down the staircase, the dark walls were lined with soft florescent lights gave the basement an almost eerie atmosphere. The large black desks, covered in things that Brittany couldn't even begin to name, lined most of the walls. She felt like she was entering some sort of science fiction movie and half expected a robot to be walking around. Brittany found the sole biological creature in the furthest corner of the room, sitting in one of the clearest desk space near three active LCD desktop screens.<p>

Santana's back was towards her as she walked over quietly, unfortunately, Brittany was too busy watching Santana to watch her feet and accidentally kicked a piece of scrap metal across the room. Brittany watched her turn slightly in her stool, so that Brittany could catch just enough of her profile to see her expression.

"Quinn," Santana mumbled, "You're such a klutz, I swear. Was that UPS? Did my stuff come in? And where the heck is that sandwich you promised me like an hour ago, don't tell me you ate it."

Brittany smiled and bit her lip. The girl that she had seen at the convention, all done up to impress, was sitting in a basement, surrounded by computer parts, dressed in an old tee shirt and sweat shorts, wearing what looked like black Ray Ban glasses. Her hair was pulled back into a sloppy bun, and squinting through a mounted magnifying glass so she could use an impossibly small screw driver to attach something metal to something else.

"It's right here," Brittany answered quietly with a small, hesitant smile.

Santana looked up quickly, her eyes going wide behind her glasses. Santana didn't speak, she just looked at Brittany for a second before blinking a couple times to assure herself that she was really there. Brittany watched her eyes narrow slightly, she was trying to figure it out, assess the situation. Her brown eyes fell from Brittany and then around the room, then down to herself in a self-conscious manner. Brittany ventured the last couple of steps and set Santana's plate down on the desk but the brunette didn't notice, she was watching Brittany's feet. "Quinn asked me to bring this down to you."

"Hm," Santana made a small noise in the back of her throat. She didn't trust herself to speak, last time she talked to this girl the blonde had gotten so far into her head she almost made her cry with some offhanded comment that she probably didn't even realize was significant. Now she was here, in her space, her _one_ place she could be herself. Santana had never felt so exposed, so naked.

"I'm here to talk to you about a few things, Miss Lopez," Brittany sat in an empty stool a little down the desk from Santana, the one in front of all the computer monitors. Santana met her eyes briefly, before vaguely gesturing for her to continue. "Firstly I'd like to apologize for my boyfriend's behavior at the convention."

"Don't," Santana cut her off with a wave of her hand, the mention of Artie Abrams knocked her out of her shock. "Don't apologize for him, Abrams would want you to, and you didn't do anything wrong."

Brittany nodded sheepishly, "He did tell me not to bother."

Santana rolled her eyes in response and turned back to her desk, and picking up half of her sandwich. "What else did you need to talk to me about? I thought the convention article was in print and done with."

"It'll be on the stands tomorrow," Brittany was looking around to keep herself from looking too nervous about the whole thing. "I brought you a copy, your um... Quinn, has it upstairs."

"Nice," Santana watched Brittany sit in the chair in front of her computer screens, her blue eyes glancing at the open files. "Quinn likes that kind of thing."

"But you don't?" Brittany shifted her gaze back to the Latina who looked away. "She told me that you never read the articles about you."

"They're never about _me_," Santana huffed quietly between bites of her sandwich. "They're about Clockwork, and the products, and everything I say is just to make them look better. I'm just a puppet."

Brittany listened to her words, picking up on the edge of resentment behind them. "I'm here to talk to you about working with you again."

"Like another interview?" Santana quirked an eyebrow.

"More like..." Brittany was eying a small circuit board that was sitting in front of her. She wanted to pick it up, feel the texture of the green and silver material, "a series of interviews."

"What do you mean?" Santana's eyes narrowed. She didn't like where this was going.

"My magazine, and Clockwork have given me the go-a-head to do a full cover feature on you," Brittany met her eyes. "Santana Lopez, where you come from, how you got to where you are at Clockwork, who you _really_ are. Not just the Face of Clockwork, but the real Santana Lopez," Brittany gestured to the girl sitting in a stool as if to prove her point, "this Santana Lopez."

Santana was glad she had a large amount of sandwich in her mouth so she didn't have to answer right away. She took her time chewing, watching Brittany watch her. She wondered what Brittany's angle was, what she was getting out of this. She thought that maybe this was a scheme from Orbit to get an insider view into her company.

She swallowed hard and asked, "Does Clockwork know that you are dating Artie Abrams?"

Brittany frowned slightly, her eyebrows knitted together in a confused manner, "Why would they need to know that?"

"Abrams is on the IT team to their greatest corporate rival," Santana explained, remembering that Brittany had admitted to not knowing anything about the industry. "He could use the information you get on me to give Orbit a leg up on us."

Brittany actually looked offended, "I really don't think that—"

"You assume the best in people," Santana's eyes were critical, calculating and Brittany couldn't hold their gaze so she looked at her hands in her lap. "Like how you assume people would be interested in me for more than my tits. I'm nothing but IT Barbie."

"Don't you want the chance to change that?" Brittany asked quietly, not taking her eyes off her hands. "I mean, yeah you're really pretty, but you're smart too, I've only talked to you once and I can see that. Shouldn't other people see that too?"

Santana frowned deeply, she didn't know who this Brittany girl thought she was. Walking into her life and asking her all these questions. Questions she didn't know the answer to, questions she didn't want to answer because she was afraid. What would happen if people read an article about the 'real' her? Who was that anyway? Santana didn't know what an feature on her real life would be like, or what it would accomplish. And how is it that when she says 'you're pretty,' Santana blushed and didn't get slightly insulted.

"What's your angle?" Santana asked, because she needed to know this wasn't about getting Artie information. "What are you getting out of this?"

"This is..." Brittany flushed lightly, meeting Santana's eyes for just a moment. "The biggest story I've been offered to do solo, this is my big break, you know, not just as a reporter, but as a journalist."

"Hm," Santana took the answer in stride, she could understand her motivations now.

Making a name for yourself, that was something she could appreciate. That made it easier to accept this. Did she want to do it? Not really. Did she feel like this might help? Kind of. This could go so wrong on so many levels. On one hand, she could validated every accomplishment she's ever achieved in a publicized manner that would make people realize how worthy she was of her title.

On the other hand. If this went south, and people saw everything that makes her worthy of her job as Head of IT and they still think nothing of it, if her years of hard work and strife weren't enough to prove herself? Then Santana didn't know what else she could possibly do. The thought that that might just be brushed aside and chalked up to one more thing she got with her looks... that might be worse than pretending everyone that gave her a hard time was just ignorant to her true value.

"I have to think about it."

Brittany's eyes perked up in a ray of hope that Santana had to look away from. She didn't want to hurt this girl when she chickened out.

"Yeah," Brittany smiled, too hopefully, "sure, um... Miss Quinn has my contact number, so... just let me know okay?"

"Of course," Santana nodded formally, feeling a little awkward now that Brittany was done with her little pitch and they were just sitting in her workshop. She was acutely aware that she hadn't showered this morning and she probably looked like shit. That was hardly the image she wanted to portray to the American people. Or Artie Abrams' girlfriend for that matter. Why did Quinn let her down here without so much as a warning?

"I'll let you get back to your work," Brittany stood and with a little wave, headed back up the stairs. Santana listened to the mumbled sounds of the blondes sharing a farewell and eventually the front door click shut. She made it appoint to not leave her workshop until dinner.

* * *

><p>"So what is this reporter shit you roped me into?" Santana glanced over from the stove, watching Quinn dig around the fridge and pull out a bottle of orange juice.<p>

"I found out the same day you did San," Quinn brushed off her accusations and walked over to see what the Latina was cooking. "I love your sopa."

"Hm," Santana gave her a narrowed eyed glance. "She told you about Abrams right?"

"Yes," Quinn rolled her eyes, "She told me she was seeing him, and that she wouldn't divulge any information about the company to him."

"Are you going to get that in writing?"

"Santana, trust me to do my job will you?" Quinn's firm voice told the brunette that she could see all the angles, she would take care of it.

"Alright fine," Santana went back to the food. "And put it in the contract that he will not come within one hundred feet of me."

"I can't put a restraining order into her contract," Quinn snorted. "She's the only one obligated to follow it anyway."

"Well put it in writing that we will terminate her contract if he rolls within my line of sight," Santana pressed on. "_Surely_, her boyfriend would care enough about her big break to keep his distance."

"You're jealous aren't you?" Quinn eyes Santana closely, watching her friend roll her eyes with an exaggerated huff.

"No," she tried to deny it but Santana's tone betrayed her, "I'm just wondering how in the hell Wheels got a girl like Brittany."

"I would assume she's too good for him, yes."

"A crack whore would be too good for him."

Quinn snorted, "You're right."

Santana frowned into her dinner. How did Artie get someone like Brittany? He wasn't her favorite person in the entire world, in fact, if she was stranded on a desert island with the man... she wouldn't even have to run out of food before she would kill him off.

Artie Abrams was the embodiment of every prejudice she's faced over the years, and she's almost positive he's the one that came up with IT Barbie. He heckled her at every convention, he's the first to criticizes her opinions, question her intelligence. She didn't understand what someone as nice and empathetic as Brittany Pierce was doing with him.

* * *

><p>"San?"<p>

"Hm?"

"I asked you a question."

"Obviously, I wasn't paying attention."

"Hm."

Santana glanced up from the laptop in her lap, peering over her Ray Bans to look at the blonde. Quinn was strung across the armchair, her feet kicked over one armrest, her back against the other, flipping idly through the television channels. This was one of their compromises, to make sure Santana didn't spend too much time in her workshop, the WiFi in the house was impeccable, and all Quinn really wanted was some company as she watched the mind numbing crap on television.

"Well?"

Quinn looked over, confused, "Well what?"

"_Well_, what was your question?" Santana asked bordering on becoming annoyed.

"I forgot."

"Bullshit Q," Santana rolled her eyes and looked back to her laptop.

They sat in silence for a while before Quinn started again. "Are you going to do it?"

"Do what?" Santana responded easily, she had been waiting that time.

"The feature, for _The Lead_."

"What kind of name is that?"

"It's a play on words," Quinn paused on the local news, "they have a huge Broadway and theater fan base, their reviews are kinda a big deal."

"Then why would they want to do a piece on a chick that works up to her eyeballs in circuits?" Santana scoffed quietly, still not believing that people would really want to read an article about her. "It's not really up their alley."

"They're not interested because you work with technology,"Quinn explained with a sigh, "they're interested because you're working in technology despite the fact that everyone in the business thinks you're an air headed bimbo."

"Oh thanks Q," she grumbled, "I really needed the reminder."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Quinn rolled her eyes. "What I'm saying is, that you go to work every day and deal with all the bigoted assholes around you, yet you keep doing it. People find that interesting."

"Do you really think it's going to change anything?"

Quinn glanced over when Santana's voice came across a little more defeated than cynical. She knew this was the last thing the Latina wanted, someone probing around in her life to try and validate herself to the people that are so ready to tear her down. It had been a few days and Quinn was getting asked about it at work. She needed to know one way or the other.

"I think that if you've gone through this much already," and Quinn knew exactly what Santana has gone through, "then I don't think that there's any way that it could make things worse right? So, if you love what you do enough to put up with everything anyway, then why not try to show people what you can really do."

Santana buried her face behind her laptop screen so she wouldn't have to make any more eye contact. She was glad that from her angle, Quinn couldn't see the screen, which was opened to an archive of information on one, Brittany Pierce. Santana had read every article published by the blonde. Every editorial, comment, or even blog. She knew everything there was to know about Brittany Pierce as a writer, and she liked what she found.

Santana also liked the idea of getting to know the woman as a person.


	3. Chapter 3

Until she got word form Clockwork about the Santana Lopez feature, Brittany was put back to work reporting on other, less important, things.

She didn't really care about the city's mayor opting to not run for reelection after the affair with his publicist came to light. The story was decent though, she found it more interesting than her friend's piece on new cameras in the subway system. At least hers was about people, if she had the option, Brittany would always prefer to write about people. They were so much more interesting.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair, looking around her cubicle. She really needed to move up in the world. A small chime alerted her to a new email. Brittany recognized it as the email address of Quinn Fabray, the one she used when they were coordinating the convention interview. It looked like they had their answer. In the email, Quinn asked Brittany to forgive them for the delay in response, siting that neither Santana or the executives of Clockwork can take this decision lightly.

They had been approved to draft a rough copy of a time-line for the coverage and contract for Brittany. Then compiling that information, along with the motivations to do the project, Brittany, Santana, and Quinn would have to pitch the idea to the board of directors at Clockwork Technologies. Quinn gave her a date of the pitch and asked if the time would work for her and her superiors. She also asked Brittany over to dinner the day after tomorrow to hash out a contract draft.

Brittany ran her lip between her teeth. She wasn't the best public speaker in the world. Pitching ideas, especially her own, never came easy to her. She would have to ask for help if she wanted to do this right, and she did, badly. Brittany forwarded the email and stood from her desk, smoothing out her blouse and skirt. She was nervous already and the meeting with Clockworks directors wasn't scheduled until next week.

She moved through the maze of cubicles quietly, making sure not to disturb anyone from their writing. Looking around to make sure her editor wasn't anywhere to be seen, Brittany started down the hall to the office marked Editor-in-Chief. Brittany knew she was jumping over her editor's head by going directly to the top, but she knew this was necessary. Her editor wasn't really in the loop about Clockwork anyway.

She made it to the door and wasn't surprised to find it ajar. The open door policy here was great.

Brittany poked her head in and glanced around, "Rachel?"

"Brittany, I'm reading your email right now," Rachel waved her forward from the desk, "come in, come in, have a seat."

Brittany closed the door behind her and sank into a plush chair in from the her boss's boss's desk. Rachel was still squinting at the monitor of her computer, taking time to find the mentioned dates in her well used day planer, and jot down small reminders about them. The book's pages were filled with sticky notes, colorful ink, and playbill cut outs.

"We'll have to work quickly to get this together," Rachel narrowed her eyes in a determined manner. "Do you have an outline we can use as a basis for this pitch?"

"I do," Brittany nodded, "I paper clipped it to the email."

Rachel glanced at the blonde in front of her, then to the email, "Oh, you mean the attached file."

"Yeah," she blushed a little. If she didn't know proper email lingo, how was Rachel going to trust her with this feature on someone that worked with computers for a living.

Rachel about to doubt her though, she was too busy reading over Brittany's outline, "This looks great Britt, exactly what I wanted to see."

A copy of her outline printed out behind Rachel's desk and the small brunette spun in her chair to snatch it up as it finished.

"This is excellent," she said more to herself, using a light blue gel pen to make a few notes. "I just have a few suggestions to make, feel free to take them as you will."

Brittany knew she would be an idiot not listen to Rachel's advice.

"I trust you plan on taking this Miss Fabray up on her dinner invitation?"

"Of course."

"While you're there," Rachel turned over the outline and jotted down a few notes on the back, "give Miss Fabray my email and office numbers, I'm writing them here, and let her know that even though you know the usual parameters of a contract, that we all know there will be a few special rules. Have her send me the draft you ladies come up with and we'll take it from there. That way you can focus on getting to know Miss Lopez, and Fabray and I can figure out all the paperwork, alright?"

Brittany nodded, relieved that she was going to get some help with this. It was her first big project and she wanted to do it right, but she wasn't arrogant enough to think she could do it all herself. She just didn't expect her editor-in-chief to be the one that helped her with it.

"What are you working on right now?"

"The Mayor's decision not to run for reelection," Brittany scrunched her nose slightly in distaste, it was such a boring article.

"Are you close to finishing it or is it still pretty raw?"

"I haven't really started it," she knew Rachel would know she had been assigned that piece a few days ago, and it didn't exactly inspire confidence that she hadn't even started it. To her surprise, Rachel smiled.

"Perfect," Rachel picked up her office phone and dialed a number from memory. "Hey, it's Rachel, look, I'm pulling Brittany from the mayor ticket, give it to Will, he's mundane, it's perfect for him."

Brittany choked back a laugh and Rachel caught her eye to smile.

"I have something different for Brittany, so don't book her for anything until further notice."

Rachel frowned a little at the response she was given, "Well, _forgive me_ if I didn't ask _you_ if I can utilize _my_ writers as I see fit. I didn't know I had to check in with the floor editor."

Brittany bit her lip, she didn't think her editor was that great a guy, but she still felt kind of bad hearing him get scolded.

Rachel rolled her eyes at the man's hasty apology, assuring her that he didn't mean it that way, and promptly hung up.

"I think I need a new floor editor," Rachel eyed her appraising, "if you weren't so set on being a journalist, I'd take you into consideration Brittany."

"Can you, maybe tell me why you're considering me for this feature?"

Brittany didn't want to look a horse in the mouth, or however that saying went, she just needed to know.

Rachel quirked an eyebrow, intrigued but hardly surprised that Brittany would ask.

"You're ready for this," Rachel shrugged like it was that simple. "When I read your coverage about the convention. The way it was written, I was compelled, I wanted to know more about this Santana person. I think you saw something in her that people normally overlook, and that's exactly what I'm looking for in a journalist."

Brittany nodded, taking her words at face value.

"I'm curious though," Rachel adjusted in her chair slightly. "What did you see in her? You seem to have such an empathic connection to her, more so than your other interviews. What made her special?"

Brittany thought for a moment, back to the first time she saw Santana, standing in front of a crowd, talking about something she loved; only to be questioned, not on her product, but on if she was really responsible for it's creation.

It was subtle, and most certainly heartbreak in Santana's eyes.

"I feel like," Brittany was better at writing her thoughts than speaking them, especially on the spot like this, "I saw the one thing she was trying to hide. I think she's hurting on the inside."

"That another reason you're so perfect for this Britt," Rachel smiled, leaning back in her chair, "you care. I like it when people care just as much about the subject, as they do the story."

* * *

><p>"So, this Clockwork thing is really happening huh?"<p>

Brittany looked up from her notes, she still had a lot of work to do to prepare this pitch to the Clockwork executives. Artie was sitting in his wheelchair next to the couch she was sitting on. They had just finished dinner and were relaxing in Brittany's living room. Normally, they would both be preoccupied with working on their own separate interests, his laptop and her notepad, for much conversation.

"Yeah kinda," Brittany glanced down at the outline spread across the coffee table in front of her. "Rachel and I still have to pitch the idea to their executives and then we'll be able to start fully."

"Good luck with that," Artie kept his eyes on the computer in his lap and Brittany frowned at his tone. He was doubting them, her.

"Rachel thinks we won't have any trouble getting them to approve it."

"She's always so confident," Artie praised sarcastically. He had never been a fan of Rachel and made it painfully obvious.

"I think she's kinda allowed to be," Brittany countered, her pen drawing dark circles in the corner of her notepad, "she's great at her job, and _The Lead_ is one of the most noted up and coming magazines on this side of the country."

"Biggest little fish in the pond is still a little fish."

"And I work there," Brittany closed her notepad and started gathering up her papers from the coffee table, "and I love my job."

She was upset at Artie's blatant disapproval of her project, her boss, her job, her magazine, her everything.

"Britt don't get mad," Artie sighed, "I didn't mean anything by it, I'm just saying that you're good enough to work at a big name, I don't know why you chose a runt publication like _The Lead_."

"I feel like it's more than that," Brittany kept her eye on her paperwork. "Ever since I interviewed Santana Lopez you've been like this. Are you upset that I didn't interview you? Or someone from your company?"

"You think I'm that petty?" he asked vaguely insulted. She did.

"Then what is it Artie?" Brittany met his eyes, asking for the truth, hoping he would offer it.

He scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, looking uncomfortable and trying to play it off as disinterest, "I don't know Brittany."

She was sure he knew and just didn't want to say it.

"I think you're lying."

"Fine," he snapped his laptop closed, "you want to know the truth?"

She didn't acknowledge his question because she thought that part had been obvious.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, hoping that she would interrupt and let him off the hook, she wasn't about to do that.

"I don't like her," he finally bit off gruffly. She didn't have to ask who he was talking about. "I don't like _anything_ about her. I don't think she deserves her position at Clockwork and the only reason she's there is because she's been sleeping her way to the top. _That's_ the reason no one takes her seriously and I think it's a waste of your time to try to make her out to be this martyr when all she's just a ladder climbing whore."

Brittany had never seen this side of Artie before. Arrogant? A little. Condescending? Sure. But outright hurtful? Not yet. She stared at him for a while, wondering where this bitter resentment had stemmed from.

"I wish you wouldn't do this article on her," Artie continued when she didn't respond.

"It's not just and article," Brittany shook her slowly. "This is my first chance at a feature, Artie. This is my big shot to make it as a journalist."

"This isn't going to do it for you Brittany," Artie continued, "because it's just a waste of paper and your time. No one cares about Santana Lopez. She's nothing."

Brittany was hurt. She knew Artie understood what this chance was to her. He was choosing to not get over his grudge against his competitor to support her in this.

"I don't think that's entirely true," she sighed quietly, she couldn't she that fragile, insecure Latina, hidden in a basement workshop, using sex to move herself up in the world. She just couldn't see it.

Artie rolled his eyes, thinking her naive.

"But if it is true... you know that I don't really gloss things over so," Brittany shrugged apathetically, she was done arguing, "you should be glad, because no matter what I find out about her, I'm going to publish it. And if you're right, then she'll be exposed as the person you think she is and then everyone will be happy."

Artie frowned in a way that didn't look like he was going to end up being happy and it gave Brittany one more reason to think he wasn't being completely truthful.

"I'm going to bed," she stood up and clutched her notes to her chest, "you can call a cab. Have a good night."

She walked away from the living room and Artie knew it was no use following her because, physically, he couldn't. The one thing he hated about Brittany's apartment was that is was a loft style. He watched her walk up the stairs to her bedroom on the second floor and disappear from view behind the decorative privacy curtains.

He had blown that argument. He quietly packed up his laptop and rolled out of the apartment, cursing the day Brittany met Santana Lopez.

* * *

><p>"Get ready for dinner!" Quinn called down the stairs.<p>

"What for?"

"Brittany's coming over for dinner," Quinn sounded exasperated. "I told you this morning that we were hashing out details for the feature and the contract tonight."

"Why are we doing it here?" Santana didn't look up from her computer, "why can't we do it in the office?"

She wasn't going to admit that she was trying to delay it. Santana was more nervous about this meeting than her conventions, there was so much more on the line. She was on the line. Everything Santana has made herself out to be, everything she has worked for, was on the line.

"Because I can never get you away from the IT team and you know it," Quinn moved down a few steps so she wouldn't be yelling. "Go get ready, you have an hour."

"Are you cooking?"

"I ordered in."

"Good, because your cooking sucks," Santana smirked lightly, typing quickly on her keyboard.

"So you tell me," the blonde wasn't amused.

Santana sighed, she knew Quinn wouldn't leave until she did. She saved her progress and left her computer, sending Quinn a sarcastic smile as she started up the steps. "Coming Mom."

"Wear something nice," Quinn turned up the stairs with her.

"I thought this whole thing was about the _real me_," Santana scoffed. "What's the point if I feel like I have to impress this chick, just like everyone else?"

"I meant, don't come to dinner in sweats and a tee shirt," Quinn eyed the sweat pants her friend was currently wearing, they had seen better days. "You can look nice without going full Face of Clockwork."

"Whatever," Santana wasn't about to try to pull off grunge right now anyway. She might try to make it seem like it wasn't the case, but she wanted to impress Brittany. The woman might be the only girl that has given her an honest look and Santana didn't want to mess it up.

She found her room just as she left it. Truth be told, she hadn't been up here in about a week, except to change clothes. She had been sleeping in the lab downstairs. Santana walked into her bathroom and turned on the stereo on her counter, blasting her Amy Winehouse was the only way to get properly cleaned.

Quinn busied herself in the kitchen getting dinner prepared. Once that was finished to the best of her abilities, Quinn pulled all the information she had on the feature via emails from both Brittany and her Editor, Rachel Berry. She didn't think there was much more to talk about, but it would be good to give Brittany a rundown so she would be better prepared for the pitch to the executives.

Quinn looked up when she head footsteps down the hall, Santana didn't look at her, she was too busy typing into her smart phone. She did look nice though, a surprisingly unwrinkled pair of black jeans with a slate gray thermal. "I love you hair when its curly."

"I didn't feel like blow drying it," Santana shrugged. She didn't mention that she might have applied the perfect amount of product to make sure it stayed perfectly curled through dinner.

* * *

><p>Brittany jogged up the steps and instantly knocked on the door. She had to do it quick, as soon as she got there, or else she is liable to fidget on the stoop and worry about how her hair looked or if this was the right house for entirely too long. Her hair was as good as it was going to get, and she checked the address twice, her trusty notebook in her hand.<p>

She heard someone approach and was glad to see Santana had come to great her this time.

"Brittany," Santana smiled easily, a kind lopsided smiled that almost matched the warmth in her eyes. Brittany could tell she was still a little skeptical about this whole situation. "I'm glad you could come, Quinn's in the kitchen. Come in."

"Thank you to having me," Brittany walked into the entrance way and followed Santana down the hall.

"Quinn set it up," Santana explained as they made their way into the kitchen, she sent a sly smirk to her roommate. "She likes to do business at home so she can pretend she has friends."

"You're _so_ funny," Quinn sent her an annoyed look from the table where she was setting out the last few items. She looked over the the blonde besides her and smiled, "Hey Brittany."

"Quinn," Brittany smiled and waved from across the room. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I've got it," Quinn was just finishing up. "Why don't you two take a seat, I'll get the wine and we can talk a little business."

Brittany settled into a seat and was amused that Santana didn't follow her. Instead the Latina moved towards Quinn, taking the wine bottle out of Quinn's hand when she was having a hard time opening it. Santana smirked lightheartedly as she opened it easily and Quinn rolled her eyes, turning to get glasses out of a cupboard.

The interaction was natural and Brittany smiled at it, "How long have you two been together?"

They froze, glancing at Brittany, then each other, then Quinn bursting into laughter as Santana pinched the bridge of her nose fighting a blush.

"Jesus Christ."

"We just live—" Quinn couldn't quite get a handle on her breathing, her laughter getting the best of her, "I'm not— I mean, _we're_ not—"

"We're _not_ together," Santana finished for her. This was the perfect way to start out the evening, awkward, embarrassing, and not really a topic Santana wanted to talk about this soon in the game.

"Oh my goodness," Brittany flushed, "I am so sorry, I just assumed—you go so well together, and this house you have together is so beautiful—"

"Brittany it's alright," Quinn smiled reassuringly, "honestly, I can see where you got the idea."

Santana turned to the counter and poured the wine. It was a habit of her's to be reclusive about certain aspects of her life. Brittany was here to break down all of her walls and get to those parts. Was she ready for that? Of course, it wasn't really part of the job description to dig too far into her personal life, and she would make sure Quinn had final edit approval to take out anything she wasn't comfortable with... but still. It was hard to let someone in.

They settled into the dinner with a little bit of small talk about the weather, traffic, the latest celebrity scandal, and how Santana didn't even know who that was.

"So Brittany," Quinn decided it was time to get to work. "Tell me about your project ideas."

"Well..." she seemed less hesitant this time, obviously more prepared this time opposed to the time in the basement. Santana watched her from the other side of the table and was glad that the blonde was taking this as seriously as it needed to be taken. "I was thinking that I would cover the next couple of conventions, up until your spring season reveal. We'd publish just before, to give Clockwork some extra buzz."

"I'm sure the guys in marketing will like that," Quinn gave an impressed look, glancing at Santana who looked like she didn't give a fuck about what the guys in marketing would think.

"But the conventions wont be the major point of the article," Brittany continued, meeting Santana's eyes. "I would like to spend some time at the IT Department in Clockwork, to see how you work on an everyday basis, what your really do for your company and how they interact with you as a department head and college... and I would like to spend even more time figuring out what you do for yourself."

"What do you mean?" Santana's eyes narrowed lightly, but Brittany wasn't backing down. She wouldn't let Santana's reluctance to open up intimidate her, it was part of the job.

"The point of the article is to figure out who you are Santana," Brittany's gaze never wavered. "I want to know what you do here, at home, in your computer lab, on your personal time."

"San, Brittany already has full access to Clockwork to be your full time shadow," Quinn smiled at the idea. "She'll be at Clockwork with you until we make our final pitch to Jesse and the gang."

"Hm," Santana took a sip of her wine. "You're going to get sick of me within the first week."

Brittany laughed, "We'll see."

"You'll need to be under a strict contract, for security purposes and such," Santana pushed on with business because if she let herself focus on Brittany's smile she might not be able to remember all of the things she had say about the feature, "Quinn will help you out with that, and the directors are going to look at this Abrams situation, we need to take it seriously. No offense to your boyfriend, but it could be a make or break point. I'll be happy if you just make sure that you never bring your boyfriend to work."

"I understand," she nodded seriously, "I've already spoken to him about it and he's told me that he understands the boundaries."

Santana still felt skeptical about that, but she kept it to herself. She let Quinn take the conversation's lead and was content to listen to the girls talk about their ideas and logistics of the work. This was turning into a project that would take a little bit of time, at least a few months if they stuck to the calender and published just before spring. It was hard to tell just how much a person can learn in that much time. Obviously, Brittany will be trying to learn as much as she can, so she would be actively trying to learn as much as she can.

She would be digging and Santana would have to deal with that. She just hoped the payoff was going to be worth it.

They called it a night not long after, both Quinn and Brittany feeling more confident about the official pitch coming up. Santana offered to walk Brittany out, she might as well start being friendly, they were going to be spending a lot of time together. Santana opened the door for the blonde as she shrugged on her coat.

"Again," Brittany smiled, "thank you for having me."

"It's nothing," Santana brushed it off, she would have loved for Brittany to come over without the pretense of business. "Quinn and I are glad to be able to get on the same page."

"Not even just for dinner Santana," Brittany stepped out onto the porch and Santana leaned against the door frame. "I just wanted to say that I appreciate you giving me this chance, I know it's not easy for you to let people in."

There it was again, Brittany calling her out on the things that she had always kept to herself. Santana wondered how the blonde got away with it. Normally, when people tread on delicate ground, she was prone to turn into a sarcastic bitch to the people trying to get too close. She guessed that Brittany's ability to keep her insecurities at bay was a sign that this would be good for them, that this might actually work out.

"I suppose that it could be worse," Santana shrugged nonchalantly, "you could be some old smelly creep."

Brittany laughed lightly, glad Santana could find some humor in it.

"I guess I'll um," Santana felt herself smiling, "see you tomorrow at work then?"

"Right," Brittany bit her lip, finding herself grinning at the words. "See you tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

Santana walked into work, entering the large cooperate building and taking an obligatory glance around. The lobby was decorated a modern white scale, aiming to paint the picture of a company that was closest to the future. Santana was proud to be able to call herself an active part of this company. Since becoming Head of IT their stocks had risen, their popularity boomed, and Clockwork had finally over taken Orbit as the a company with the most innovated technology on the market today. Not many people made that connection.

Her low heels clacked softly against the polished tile. Heads turned as she passed, and she ignored them. People moved out of her way, and she expected them to. Someone was _always_ pointing their iPhone at her, and it made her skin crawl. No matter how anxious the attention made her, she held her head high, projecting an appearance of confidence and disinterest to the masses around her. Santana tried to tune everyone out around her, trying not to focus on how each pair of eyes made the tension in her chest tighten. She just needed to get to her office, then she could breathe again.

If she could just—

Her usual beeline for the elevators was cut short when her eyes found the familiar blonde standing next to the reception desk, chatting happily with the security guy on duty. Brittany Pierce leaned easily on the counter, everything about her posture radiated a friendly warmth that made her seem so at ease in her surrounding, like she didn't have a care in the world. Santana was a little jealous that she had to work for that look, and it came so naturally to the blonde. She wasn't bitter though, because it looked good on Brittany. Great even.

Brittany glanced over when Santana approached and her face lit up in a warm smile. It was impossible not to appreciate the smaller girl. Dressed in slimming black slacks, a fitted button down blouse, and a deep gray blazer with black piping. She looked the part again, the Face of Clockwork. Brittany was taken aback by the drastic change from the woman in sweats and a loose tee shirt. Brittany even found herself missing Santana's glasses. The only hint to her true nature was the worn, but well loved, Slimline Paris computer bag slung over her shoulders.

"Good morning, Miss Lopez," Brittany recited with a bit of a smirk on her face, handing Santana a Starbucks coffee cup.

"Thanks, and um... good morning to you," Santana took it with a light frown. She gave a slight nod to the security guard, "Karofsky."

"Miss Lopez," he gave her a grin that she didn't like, "I was just talking to your new _ass_istant."

"Hm," she heard the implications. Santana took as step away from the desk, "Speaking of, we should probably get to work."

"Oh right," Brittany followed her lead, throwing over her shoulder, "It was nice meeting you, David."

"Same," he waved, his eyes lingering a bit too long, and then shifted back to Santana.

They met each others eyes in a mutual understanding that he had been inappropriately leering at the tall blonde and Santana wasn't happy about it. Her eyes narrowed, just ever so slightly, and Karofsky swallowed visibly. He was nervous. She turned away, content to deal with him later.

Brittany followed Santana towards the elevators and then, surprisingly, past them. The Latina kept walking even when a few people made an effort to hold the mechanical doors for her, she just smiled and waved them on, continuing down the hall. Brittany followed her to a hall where there was significantly less people, bad lighting, and no decorations to speak of. Needless to say, this wasn't somewhere anyone but maintenance crews were supposed to be. She didn't want to question Santana in the first five minutes of working together, so she kept her mouth shut.

"I know Quinn thought this whole assistant ruse would be cool, or whatever," the brunette rolled her eyes and stopped in front of a large metal door. Santana punched in a code on a key pad mounted on the wall and as the door slid open Brittany realized this was a service elevator, "but you don't have to get me a coffee in the morning."

Brittany chuckled, almost nervously, "I know... but I thought it would be nice, and I was already there."

She held up her own coffee as if to prove a point.

"I appreciate it," Santana hit the floor she wanted and the doors slid shut. It was almost foreboding, and Brittany was waiting to be taken to a secret underground laboratory.

"Why are we in a service elevator?" Brittany asked looking around. She decided that was a safe enough question.

Santana pushed number 42 and licked her lips. How should she answer this question? Honestly? Vaguely? How much was too much too soon? She took a small breath and decided to take the honest route, "The other elevators make me uncomfortable."

"Too crowded?"

"Too many opportunities to cop a feel," Santana watched the numbers rise, not wanting to see the blonde's face. She didn't need to see the pity in her eyes. "I can't count how many times some dick grabbed my ass in those things. I finally got my friend in security to give me the service elevator codes."

"Oh wow," Brittany frowned, "did you ever report any of it?"

Santana snorted, "No, there wasn't any point."

Brittany nodded, accepting that Santana probably knew the dynamics of her company enough to know when her accusations would fall on deaf ears. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Santana shrugged, sending the blonde a lighthearted smirk. "I got them all fired eventually, for one reason or another."

"Oh," Brittany couldn't help but smile at that.

"They're all working at Orbit now," Santana sighed, stepping out of the elevator. She refrained from asking if Artie knew any of them. Brittany followed her down another odd hallway, and then to a plain door that needed a key card to open.

"Did they give you a security card?"

"Yeah, it's right here," Brittany pulled it out of her pocket handing it to Santana. The brunette swiped it and frowned when the light flashed red.

"I'll fix this," she slid it into the inside pocket of her blazer and opened the door with her own key card that was attached it a retractable lanyard off her belt. "I might be one of four people that has access to this door."

She pulled open the door and held it open for Brittany muttering, "Welcome to Clockwork."

Brittany had never seen so many computers, so many desktops, all aligned in a neat little circle in the center of the room or in rows of cubicles along the walls. Santana moved along the wall and Brittany followed. There were a few people that said good morning to Santana and eyed Brittany curiously but for the most part conversations died as they came closer.

"This room is called COGS," she waved her hand in a vague gesture to encompass everything in their line of sight, "or Collaborative Organizational Growth Station, I know it's a lame name, but this is where we do our brain storming, pitch new ideas, work out old problems. All the development for the new products happens here, and through that door is our main lab. That's the central meeting area, and this, is my office," she slid her key card into a slot and punched in another key code before the light turned green.

Santana stepped back to let Brittany in first, and as they crossed the threshold the door slid closed behind them. A soft voice floated through the speakers hidden around the room, _"Good morning Miss Lopez, you have nineteen unread emails and twelve missed calls to your office phone."_

"You're popular," Brittany tried not to laugh at the annoyed groan that escaped from the Latina.

"That phone is the bane of my existence," Santana set her bag on her desk waved towards the office around her. "Make yourself at home, if you need anything let me know, I have real assistants to do that kind of thing for me."

Brittany smiled and walked towards the large windows that overlooked the city. It was a great view, one worthy of the Head of IT at Clockwork Technologies. Brittany could see why people would be bitter towards Santana's success. Glancing back to the brunette for a moment Brittany watched Santana pull her laptop out of her bag and start setting it up at her desk.

Brittany looked around shamelessly now that Santana was busy doing other things. This was a lovely corner office, two walls were more windows than walls. Structurally sound columns intersected them to mount large LCD monitors. Against one wall was a large bookshelf, a few awards were displayed, a few shelves of reference books, a picture of Santana and the IT Team, and a few framed magazine covers. Brittany had the distinct impression that Santana hadn't decorated her office.

She sat on the couch that was along the last wall, angled to see both the desk and the widescreens. Brittany wondered if Santana held meetings in here. She hoped that maybe she would have an office of her own one day instead of the cubical she worked in now. Her eyes fell on the brunette sitting at the desk, attaching a cable to her laptop. The desktop display popped up on one of the widescreen monitors.

Brittany wasn't sure if it was an invasion of privacy to watch Santana check her schedule and email. Everything was work related, talking about deadlines and upcoming meetings. She pulled her eyes away to look at the bookshelf one more time.

"Who decorated your office?" Brittany asked, looking at a particularly flashy magazine cover.

Santana followed the blonde's gaze and laughed, because it was obvious she would never display something like that herself, "My real assistant, Kurt, picks out his favorites and changes them out every two weeks. Mostly because he's pretty much in charge of my wardrobe for all the photo shoots, and all the conventions," she rolled her eyes, "he loves to see his _masterpieces_ published."

Brittany bit her lip to the idea that Santana has someone in charge of her fashion sense, "Where is he?"

"Home visiting his father," Santana frowned, "He's not doing so well. Old guy with heart problems, you know?"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Brittany sighed, wishing them the best.

Santana pulled a few gadgets out of a drawer, laying a tablet on the desk. Her fingers worked the keyboard one handed as she put a blue-tooth earpiece in and turning it on. She tried to pretend she didn't notice Brittany watching her. She was ready to feel nervous and anxious, maybe even annoyed at someone sitting there watching her, but to her surprise, Brittany's presence wasn't as abrasive as she expected it to be.

It was probably because Brittany was making herself look like she belonged in this office.

"Computer," she spoke clearly, waiting for the applications to boot, "call Quinn."

_"Calling Quinn,_" the soft voice spoke into her ear.

_"Santana,"_ Quinn said in way of greeting.

"Hey, any chance we can reschedule that meeting with Marketing for after three o'clock?" her typing became faster with the use of both her hands.

She was already in the security's system. Hacking really was a fun past time. Placing the blonde's ID card into the reader in the keyboard, she found Brittany's profile in her company's security database. Making the appropriate adjustments to Brittany's security clearance wasn't that hard, she just hoped that her effort would be worth the time. If their meeting next week went south, then all of this would just a waste of time.

_"Is there any reason?"_ Quinn asked with an annoyed tone, she hated when Santana put off their meetings for last minute.

"Because I need time for my lunch to settle, so I won't barf when I see St. James's face."

Brittany watched Santana, her dark eyes were focused on the screen with a driven expression that was only marred with the smirk playing at the corner of her mouth when she spoke to Quinn. This St. James character was the deciding factor for their pitch. If Santana didn't even want to go to a meeting with him, then he must be just as bad as she thought. No matter how much Rachel had assured her that they would be ready in time, Brittany was still pretty nervous for the pitch.

_"That's hardly a reason to reschedule the meeting Santana and you know it,"_ Quinn sighed_._

"I know, but I don't really care about anything that happens in those things, and it's not like they take anything I say into consideration," Santana asked, her eyes shifting to Brittany, who was already looking at her, it was her job to eavesdrop right?

_"I know, I know, but Jesse isn't going to like that at all."_

"Well, tell him that the COG is going to run long."

"_Are you going to make sure it runs long, just so you don't have to go?"_

"Well duh."

Quinn groaned, _"You know I always take heat for that shit."_

"Yes, and I'm terribly sorry," Santana snorted sarcastically, she finished editing Brittany's security file and closed out the window.

"_I'm sure you are."_

Santana's voice dipped a little, "The real reason I'm calling is to ask if Jesse is still pushing Maxim?"

_"I haven't heard anything about it,"_ Quinn replied honestly, _"But I'll know for sure before lunch and I'll get back to you. I'm not going to let them blindside you, okay?"_

"Alright, talk to you then."

_"Bye."_

Santana sighed, the look on her face told Brittany that there wasn't any good news on the Maxim front. Pulling off her Bluetooth, Santana looked at the clock, "Computer, pull up the security feed of COGS on screen one."

The women watched the larger of the LCD screens blink to life and display the main floor they had just walked through. Brittany blinked a couple of times, making sure she was seeing it right.

"Is that..."

"Everything happening outside my office?" Santana offered, her eyes trained on the screen. "Yes."

"Isn't that like..." she wasn't sure what the word was, "spying or something?"

Santana smirked and chuckled lightly, "I like to see who get's here early, and who gets to work late."

"Oh," Brittany watched the people on the screen move about their business.

"See," she moved her mouse and the little pointer followed a man around the screen. "Mike Chang has probably been here for the past hour, because he's pitching an idea today and likes getting here to set up and make sure everything is ready..."

Her pointer moved to another figure that was just reaching his desk, "This guy, however, he's never here on time, or just barely."

"So, what do you do when he's late?" Brittany wondered out loud.

"I don't really _do_ anything, I want to know because when we're pitching today, I'm going be more willing to listen to Mike than him. It's not that I like to play favorites, but Mike has put in the effort that this guy hasn't and this proves it to me."

Brittany nodded, she could see the justification in that.

"Are you excited about this meeting with the executives next week?" Santana asked even thought they both knew the answer.

"Yeah," Brittany rolled her eyes playfully, "totally excited."

"Did you need anything for it?" the brunette shifted to her desktop and started answering a few emails.

"No, my editor-in-chief is going to be with me for the presentation," Brittany whipped her suddenly sweaty hands on her thighs. Even the thought of this meeting made her break out into a sweat.

"Editor-in-chief? That's the big boss man right?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "Boss woman, though."

Santana's eyebrows perked up, she thought about it for a moment, "I wish my boss was a woman... are you nervous?" she asked in a soft tone that made Brittany relax a little.

"Kind of," she flushed a little. "Like I said, this could be my big break."

Santana nodded, and made a new resolution to not sabotage this thing for Brittany's sake.

"In all honestly," she wasn't even sure why she was being this honest, "I'm kind of nervous too."

Brittany glanced up, surprised by the admission.

"Miss Lopez," the computer systems soft voice floated into the room, "Noah Puckerman at the door."

Santana rolled her eyes, "Let him in."

The sliding door opened and reviled a large, but quite annoyed, man sporting a mohawk and the same security uniform as the officer downstairs, except he had a few stripes on his sleeves. He was in the room and at Santana's desk before the door had the chance to slide shut.

"Why do you insist on hacking into my security system?" he all but growled, leaning imposingly over her desk.

Santana didn't back away, she only gave him a disinterested look, "Puck, the customer service at security is shit. You know that."

"Well maybe, if people would adhere to protocol, I wouldn't have to reboot the whole mainframe when someone decides to go all ninja up in my circuits," he huffed indignantly.

"Well maybe, you need better firewalls," Santana shrugged, looking at her nails, a light smirk playing over her lips. Brittany watched the exchange, sipping her coffee, and trying not to smile. They were like brother and sister. "Seriously, it was easier than finding porn on the internet."

He threw his arms in the air, "Well shit, good thing you're an expert at that too."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Santana gave him a grin that only seemed to frustrate him more. "Look Puck, nothing against the security department but it's just so much easier if I do it myself."

He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off, "Puckerman, meet Brittany Pierce."

Puck turned to the couch and for the first time realized that Brittany was there. She gave him a little wave of recognition. He had the decency to look embarrassed, and sent Santana an apologetic grimace before her walked over and offered his hand.

"Noah Puckerman," he shook her hand lightly. "Most people call me Puck though."

"Brittany Pierce," she smiled. "Most people call me Britt."

"So, do you work for Clockwork?" he asked glancing at Santana for information.

"She's a journalist doing a story on Clockwork for her magazine," Santana answered before Brittany could give him the assistant line, "but we're pretending that she's my new assistant for appearances so keep your mouth shut about it."

"Right," he nodded. "Does she have access to the back entrance way?"

"Yes," she glanced at the clock, she had a few minuets before she needed to be in the COGS, "All main floors and my office, do you have one of those lanyard things for her badge?"

"Oh yeah," he dug around in his cargo pockets, and Santana handed him the access badge. He hooked it up and handed it to Brittany, "Here, clip this on your belt or something so no one gives you crap, and if anyone gives you any tell them to call Puckerman, I'm head of security."

"Thank you," Brittany smiled and followed his instructions.

"One more thing Puck," Santana was locking down her computers.

"Whats that?" he eyed her warily, not forgetting the trouble she caused this morning.

"Tell Karofsky to keep his eyes to himself," she frowned, "why can't you assign him to the basement or something."

They shared a look and Puck knew that it wasn't just Santana that was in Karofsky's sights. "Yeah, I'll talk to him."

"Thank you," she stood from her desk, "and I guess I'm sorry about this morning."

"Don't worry about it," his lopsided grin was easy going. "I wanted to come see how you're doing anyway, I heard they're pushing Maxim?"

Santana groaned and shot him a glare, "Over my dead body."

"More like over your naked body."

"Get out of my office," she pushed him lightly on the shoulder. "I have to get the the morning COG."

"Yeah yeah," he looked back to the blonde who was rising to meet Santana at the door. "It was nice meeting you Britt."

"You too Puck," she waved again and was happy to see he sent her a little wave back before he left the office.

* * *

><p>Brittany was oddly reminded of the Knights of the Round Table when she took a seat next to Santana at one of the workstations. Each desk had three monitors, two facing the person at the desk and one facing into the circle so that the employees could display their ideas towards the rest of the team. Santana explained that a computer program would allow the Techs to run display programs over one monitor while she was free to use the other as her own.<p>

"So, what they're pitching will show up here," she gestured to the left screen, "and my notes and stuff will go here."

She logged into the computer and the monitors sprung to life, Brittany assumed her name popped up on the outward facing monitor like it was at the station with Mike Chang and Sam Evans that were sitting across from them. Again, Santana busied herself with checking her email and shooting off quick reply's. She frowned when a small icon started blinking in the bottom right corner of her screen. She opened the instant messaging window, the frown on her face becoming more prevalent as she read.

'_Who's the hottie?_'

"Israel, I'm not going to remind you about the sexual harassment policy," Santana glared over her screen at the man Brittany recognized as the one cited for being late all the time. His body was hidden by the work station but the puff of unruly hair stood up past the tops of the screens.

"It was just a question," he adjusted his thick glasses as he looked up to meet Santana's and Brittany's scrutiny. "My second being, is she single or are you currently tapping—"

"Alright, I think it's time to get started," Mike interjected, standing at his station and throwing Jacob a stern look. "Good morning everyone."

"Mornin' Mike," the room collectively responded, except for Santana who was too busy taking deep breaths and trying to not let it show how much she wanted to kill Jacob at the moment. It was one thing to endure the comments she's been dealing with for the past few years, it was another entirely to subject someone else to it. She took a gamble and met Brittany's eyes, trying to convey that she was sorry for his behavior, his implications.

Brittany smiled reassuringly, giving Santana's knee a light squeeze under the desk. "It's alright, I promise."

Santana nodded and turned back to the presentation. Mike continued his pitch, citing the flaws in old products, what they knew of competitor's new items, and how they could market for the new spring season. Santana's screen filed with notes that Mike was sending to the Tech's computers along with a slide show of design mockups.

Brittany followed along, she wasn't really sure of the technical babel, but she was sure that she could understand from the perspective of a consumer. If they ever went too technical and she had no idea what they were talking about Santana would lean over and try to explain it in layman's terms until Brittany nodded that she had a better understanding.

She knew what she liked and didn't like in technology, and she was sure she would like Mike's idea. She might not buy it, because she had a hard time figuring out computers all together and this system seemed pretty complicated. More complicated than her iPod anyway. Santana, on the other hand, seemed to be on board.

"How is this going to be able to interact with our old stuff?" she asked, scrolling through the notes on the screen.

"I was thinking that we could pin point which applications would be transferable and which applications we could update along with the new system," Mike answered and a list showed up on the screens for the Techs to look at.

"Some of these could be updated and resold," Santana highlighted a few and sent the list back to Mike, "marketing will like that."

"That's was I was thinking," Mike agreed, "but that's all I have for the initial pitch, if anyone has any other questions..."

"Who do you want for your team?" Santana asked when no one else had anything further, she was already bringing up a personnel assignments roster. Mike blinked, obviously thrown off by the question and Brittany wondered if it was abnormal to be asked that.

"I want you to spear head this Mike," Santana explained when he didn't speak up and Brittany remembered that she was technically their boss as Head of IT. "I think you have a good start, all the resources, now you need a team. Send me your preferences and I'll confirm them."

"Alright," Mike nodded, knowing enough to not say thank you but Brittany could tell he was trying to suppress a smile.

"Let's break till ten thirty and give Jacob some time to set up for his presentation," Santana logged off her computer and stood, Brittany following her lead.


	5. Chapter 5

They made their way through the COGS and Santana paused at her office door, letting Brittany go ahead of her as she opened the security functions. As always the automated voice welcomed her to the office and Brittany grinned at the sound.

"I'm never going to get used to that," she laughed.

Santana smiled along with her for a moment before she felt like she needed to break the mood.

"Hey," she sat at her desk because it was familiar and safe and created a kind of barrier between her and the blonde, who's sole purpose for being there was to break down all of Santana's barriers. "I'm sorry about how Israel acted in the meeting."

Brittany fell softly onto the couch, her smiled dampening slightly, "I'm not worried about it. Really Santana, it's fine."

She met the dark eyes that were trying to figure out if she was being honest or not, her gaze didn't waiver and Santana looked away, satisfied.

"Does that happen to you a lot?" she asked softly, this was part of the article that was going to be the hardest for her, being witness to the bigotry Santana was faced with every day.

Santana rolled her eyes in a tired manner, "Yes and no... I'm sure you'll figure it out. If you stay long enough."

"What do you mean?"

"Like you saw," Santana kept her eyes on the screen that was still playing the security feed of the COG, "This isn't the best work environment for attractive women," Brittany ducked her head to hide her blush, "and I would be the first person to understand if it made you too uncomfortable."

"I'm here for a reason," Brittany's voice was steady and it made Santana meet her eyes. "I'm going to finish what I started."

Santana gave her that dissecting look, calculating just how long she would last before nodding and turning back to the screen.

"What did you think of the meeting?"

"I have a few questions," Brittany admitted, glad that they we on a better topic. "Why was Mike Chang surprised when you gave him the pick of his team?"

"Because normally I would assign it myself," Santana shrugged, "and normally I'm always on it. I'm giving him a chance to work with other people, and in a leadership position."

"Isn't that bad for you?" she was a little confused. "Isn't Mike your main competition in this company?"

Santana frowned thoughtfully, "I can't see Mike ever angling for my job... he knows just how much of my time is wasted on administrative bullshit and publicity stunts... he deserves something of his own. Besides, every time I'm on the team they think it's Mike's idea anyway."

Brittany bit her lip, mulling over the idea in her head.

"Miss Lopez, Mike Chang at the door."

"Let him in," Santana clicked the security footage off and turned to the door before it opened. Mike walked in easily, Brittany assumed he was a frequent visitor to her office. He caught Brittany's eye and smiled. "Mike, this is Brittany Pierce, my assistant."

"Hello," he crossed the office and took Brittany's hand.

"Nice to meet you," she offered him her warm and friendly smile. "I liked your presentation today."

"Thank you," he grinned almost bashfully and turned back to Santana. "Is Kurt not coming back?"

"No, he should be back sometime next week," Santana explained, "Brittany is just new."

"So... who do you want me to work with?" he asked scratching the back of his head. Santana snorted disbelievingly.

"Mike," she shook her head. "I'm leaving it up to you, because I know you can handle this on your own, don't make me second guess myself."

Mike nodded, understanding what Santana was asking of him.

"I do suggest you pull the new guy, Evans, into the mix, see what he's all about."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"And _not_ Israel, because I'm trying to get him fired."

Brittany was surprised at how bluntly Santana had said that. Then again, he was probably one of they guys trying to grope her in the elevators.

"No problems there," he nodded, thinking about the suggestions. "Does this mean that you're not going to be on the team?"

"I will be handling a different project," she sat forward, resting her elbows on the desk and bringing her hands together, there was a glint in her eyes that Brittany liked. She was confident, mysterious, and altogether up to something. "I'm keeping it close to the vest. I'll probably pull you in later down the road, but not just yet. You'll too busy with your own project to bother anyway."

Mike gave her a grin, "Thank you, this is a big opportunity for me, Santana."

"Just don't fuck it up," Santana rolled her eyes, trust Mike to make things all emotional, "and keep Israel out of the picture."

"You got it," he laughed and moved towards the door.

"And I want progress reports," Santana called after him.

"Every week," he tossed over his shoulder.

"Biweekly!"

"Monday, Thursday?"

"Good enough," Santana waited until the door closed behind him until she let herself smile.

"You're a pretty awesome boss."

The smile slid off Santana's face quickly, she had forgotten that Brittany was there, the walls came back up. She coughed into her fist to buy herself a moment. "You're biased."

"Why do you say that?" Brittany tilted her head slightly.

"Because people see things differently from the outside," Santana shrugged, fiddling with her computer so she wouldn't have to make eye contact. "Grass is greener on the other side, kind of thing..."

"But I'm not outside, I'm right here."

Santana blinked slowly and shifted her eyes towards the blonde. There was such an innocent confusion in the blue gaze that Santana wasn't sure how to answer. But in a way, she was right. Brittany was sitting right there, probably seeing things more clearly than Santana could. She didn't have Santana's bitter resentment skewing her image of everything.

"You're right Brittany," she conceded to the blonde and glanced at the clock. "Hey, I have to go back to the COG, and sit through Israel's sorry excuse for a presentation, and I'm sure it's really boring for you, so you could look around the building or—"

"It's not," she interrupted gently, a small smile on her face. "I mean, I don't really understand a lot of it, but I'm picking up on things, and I'd like to learn as much as I can. So... I'd like to join you again, if that would be alright."

This time Santana smiled broadly, "Yeah, of course."

* * *

><p>Santana tried to focus, or at least pretend to. She could care less about Jacob Israel's pitch, about ten minutes into it she realized it was just a knock off of an Orbit's product and decided it wasn't worth her time. So she checked her email and took some time to write out proper responses to the more important ones. She kept one ear open for offensive remarks towards her or Brittany.<p>

She sent a instant message to Mike, _"This is just some Orbit knock off."_

_"I know... it's totally lame."_

_"Did you talk to Evans yet?"_

_"Yes, he's on board."_

_"Good, help me take out Nerd Alert so we can all go to lunch."_

_"Roger that."_

"So Jacob," Santana interrupted his presentation with a sweet voice and a soft, but so obviously forced smile. "What operating system are you going to be running on this system?"

"Clockwork 7," Jacob answered slowly, giving the impression that he had to think about the answer.

"But your release date is after the releases of Clockwork 7.5," Santana continue, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Quinn. Lunch would be early. "Why wouldn't you want the updated system?"

"Well..." he didn't really have an answer for that.

"Tell me, what's the age range for your target buyer?"

"Um... I would say the 15-35 market."

"Don't you think you would be directly competing against Clockworks fall products in that market?" Mike asked, "We have proven sales on the items from last season, and sales haven't started to decline yet, why would we release something that would take away from that success?"

"But this one is new," he adjusted his glasses, pulling a mock up image onto the viewing screens. "People like new things, and the software is compatible with our older systems."

"Just because it's new doesn't mean people are going to buy it," Sam Evans looked at Jacob from over his computer screen. "Especially when it looks just like something Orbit put out, like a month ago."

"I really can't see a comparison," Jacob muttered to himself.

"You know Evans," Santana pretended to look at the screen closely. "I think you have a point."

Brittany watched the rest of the Techs look at each other and begin to mutter agreement to the statement. Jacob could feel things not going his way, and tried to push forward, "but this will give people another option from our main line of products."

Santana sat back and watched the pieces fall into place and Jacob's idea slowly get ripped apart.

"What's the benefit of detouring from the main line?"

"Is it the same software as our other products just a different look?"

"It looks just like that shit Orbit just released."

"The one that bombed, and all the reviews sucked."

"Kill shot."

"Kill shot."

"What's 'kill shot' mean?" Brittany leaned closer to Santana to whisper in her ear. The sensation of hot breath against her cheek gave her goosebumps, and she shifted slightly to ease the feeling.

"It means they want to kill the idea," she answered quietly, ducking behind her computer screen so they would be kind of shielded. Half of Brittany's mouth twisted into a frown. "What's wrong?"

"He didn't even get to finish."

"It was a bad idea though," Santana's eyebrows knitted.

"He still deserves a chance," Brittany glanced at the messaging screen that was still open. The one planing on sabotaging Jacob's work. "Right?"

"Not so awesome anymore, huh?" Santana muttered and leaned back in her chair, watching Jacob's display screens close. She tried to convince herself that he deserved it, but somehow she couldn't.

"I think you're just angry about this morning," Brittany played idly with the keyboard in front of her. Santana glanced around, everyone was leaving, knowing they weren't needed until after lunch. She was glad to see Mike talking to Sam and inviting him to lunch.

"Of course I'm angry about this morning, he was totally out of line," Santana didn't know why she felt that she needed to justify herself, "and besides, if I don't cut him down every once in a while he'll think he can walk all over me."

"I guess I didn't think of that," Brittany bit her lip. "Thing's aren't like this in my company."

"Santana!"

The brunette looked to her office door, Quinn was standing in front of it and trying to balance three takeout containers and drinks. Santana was on her feet without further instruction, taking the drinks so that Quinn could handle the food, "I didn't see you there."

Quinn huffed, "How did the COG go?"

"Mike's presentation was on point," Santana shrugged, opening the door one handed. "We killed off Jacob's right away."

"How are you Brittany?" Quinn asked, "The techno-babel isn't too boring for you?"

"I'm a little lost sometimes," she admitted, tucking some hair behind her ear in a shy gesture, "but I'm picking up on a few things."

"That's good," the shorter blonde eyed Santana who was taking refuge behind her desk, an iced tea already in her hands. "Is Santana explaining anything to you or is she letting you figure it out yourself?"

Santana shot her a glare and Quinn laughed, taking a seat next to Brittany on the couch, handing her a box of food and a drink.

"No, she's been really good about it," Brittany sent Santana a soft smile that grew when the brunette looked away quickly.

"I'm glad," Quinn settled into her own food. "Sometimes she gets too caught up in the whole thing and forgets that for normal people, it sounds like another language."

"She translates for me when I need it."

"Can you two please stop talking about me like I'm not sitting right here," Santana rolled her eyes but they found the humor in it. "How are things looking for that meeting Quinn?"

"Good," she said in a tone that was less than convincing and when Santana's eyes narrowed, she sighed. "Fine, I'm just going to come out and say it. They're really looking into the Maxim thing."

"What the fuck—"

"But!" Quinn spoke over Santana's outburst, "_only_ as a fall out."

Santana was quiet for a moment, and Brittany was more than curious, "Fall out to what?"

Quinn took a sip of iced tea before starting out slowly, "Remember the whole reason Brittany's feature is even being looked at is because it will get a buzz going for the spring showcase."

"Right," Santana nodded, meeting Brittany's eyes to see that they were equally confused, "and?"

"Well," she send Brittany an apologetic glance, "if we get closer to spring and they don't like the article Brittany's doing, which isn't going to happen because you're an amazing writer Brittany, and I loved the article on the convention, but if they don't think its going to give them the right kind of publicity..."

"We're doing Maxim instead," Santana finished for her in a whisper. It was quiet and steady but Brittany would feel the defeat in her words, she was being backed into a corner and she knew it. In that moment Santana looked so tired, pinching her the bridge of her nose and taking a deep breath.

"Yeah," Quinn frowned into her food, suddenly not very hungry. She felt like a failure, this was her _job_, to stand between her friend and the assholes at marketing and make sure they didn't take advantage. She dropped the ball on this one. "But remember it's just a fall out."

Santana shook her head, she could hear the apology in Quinn's voice. "It's not your fault Quinn, I'm sure they've had this in their heads for a while now." She let out a deep breath, dispelling her anger and fear for the possible photo shoot, she sent Brittany a playful smile, "It's all up to you now Britt, no pressure or anything.

Brittany returned her smile halfheartedly. She was upset, she didn't like seeing people push Santana into things like this, to be paraded around like an animal. And to be nearly forced into something so exposing and degrading as a magazine like Maxim? She would do anything she could to keep that from happening. "I'm not going to let that happen, between my editor and I, we'll keep you out of Maxim."

The confidence of her voice surprised both Quinn and Santana, and if they believed her or not, they appreciated the gesture.

"What's your boss like?" Santana asked, she needed to focus on something else, something that wasn't her exposed and made into a fantasy object for the men that showed her no respect. "What's her name?"

"Rachel Berry, and she's a great editor," Brittany smiled into her food. "She's a little... well, she has a different kind of personality, but once you figure out how she works, she's a really good boss and she really knows her stuff."

"Huh," Quinn smirked, thinking that sounded a lot like Santana, but the brunette was too focused on her computer to notice.

"She has two gay dads?" Santana looked a little surprised herself, "She's vegan, Jewish, and single."

"Santana," Quinn's voice was warning. "What are you hacking into now?"

"Facebook is hardly hacking, Q." Santana huffed, clicking a few things on her keyboard. "Check out screen one."

Brittany's eyebrows perked up when she found Rachel Berry's Facebook page on the screen, she watched Santana flip through her profile information.

"She listens to show tunes," the brunette couldn't keep the judgment out of her tone.

"You listen to _noise_," Quinn muttered to herself, it was common knowledge that she hated Santana's music. She kept her eyes on the screen though, the profile picture was a brunette with soft eyes and a stunning smile. She remembered that she'll be meeting this woman sometime in the near future. The thought was kind of exciting.

Santana didn't acknowledge the barb, she was too busy flipping through Rachel Berry's photo's until she stopped at one, "Is she gay too?"

In the picture Santana had paused at Rachel Berry was being kissed on the cheek by a reasonably attractive woman with a pixy cut. Rachel was smiling a certain kind of smile, coy and flustered.

"Santana, that's none of your business," Quinn frowned, but she couldn't take her eyes off the photo. The girl looked so happy. Brittany realized that the question was directed at her and glanced away from the screen to Santana who was rolling her eyes at Quinn.

"Q, you know I'm not judging," the brunette huffed in an exasperated way, she moved on from the photo and pulled up the editor's friends list. "I'm just curious, and it's not listed on her profile."

"I think she would consider herself bisexual," Brittany shrugged, "She's brought boyfriends and girlfriends to company functions. At different times of course, she never has two dates or something."

Santana snorted, "Right, I can't see this chick rolling like a pimp anyway."

"Santana," Quinn scolded but before she could add anything else, Santana cut her off.

"You're friends with your boss on Facebook?"

"And in real life," Brittany found her name of the screen along with her profile picture. "Is that weird?"

"It's not Brittany," Quinn reassured her, "Santana just doesn't understand because she hates all the people she works with."

"This is true," she shrugged, accepting that fact. She closed out of her cyber-stalking and pulled up her email. "That was fun, but we really need to go over Brittany's presentation so we're all on the same page. This crap needs to be on point so IT Barbie doesn't turn into IT Porn Star."

* * *

><p>Even after a week, she was there again, standing by the reception desk, thankfully not talking to Karofsky, who she had not seen since Brittany's first day. If it was anyone else, Santana would think the smile Brittany offered her with her coffee was too bright and cheery for the morning, but on Brittany it was perfect.<p>

She couldn't help noticing the way the buzz of the moving masses died off as she came into Brittany's presence, nothing else around her mattered. The people watching her didn't matter, their glances and leers, none of it. All she cared about was the tall smiling blonde in front of her, the one waiting for her, excited to see _her_. And not because she was the Face of Clockwork, but because she was Santana Lopez, the woman.

"You know, you can just head up to the COG when you get here," Santana started off in the direction of the elevators and Brittany matched her pace perfectly. "They have a pretty plush break room on that floor... on second thought, all the creepers live in there, so never mind."

The last thing Santana wanted was for Brittany to be by herself among a group of her less polite colleges.

"I'm fine with waiting for you," Brittany smiled with her eyes, and she really meant it. "I kind of like walking up with you, and I think the point of shadowing you is to spend as much time with you as possible. I'm pretty sure riding the elevators is very important to my feature."

She made a few assumptions about Santana from the time they've spent together, first being that the woman was tense. She walked into the building a bundle of nerves and walked out tight enough to snap at any given notice. Brittany might have seen her loosen up a little bit when she was in her office, with Quinn teasing her easily. Call it reporters intuition, Brittany guessed that being a little lighthearted might help bring Santana out of her shell.

"Oh yeah?" Santana quirked an eyebrow, unbelieving but willing to play along. Brittany's strategy was working already.

"For sure," Brittany nodded playfully, "you wouldn't believe how much information you can get out of a person on a single elevator ride, it's like, reporting 101."

"I'm telling you, you're going to get sick of me," Santana shook her head as she chuckled, secretly hoping that would never happen.

"Maybe," Brittany teased easily, catching Santana's eye, "but not today."

"I can hardly believe you lasted a week," Santana smirked.

"Good morning, Miss Lopez," a tall and shapely brunette caught the women's attention as they neared the main elevators. She placed a heeled foot in the threshold of the sliding door and looked at Santana from under her eyelashes, "Going up?"

Santana flushed under Brittany's amused scrutiny, licking her suddenly dry lips before answering, "Sorry, Stacy, I'm actually going down, catch you next time."

A confused expression passed over the woman's face as they passed the elevators completely, was there a basement? Brittany had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from erupting into a fit of giggles. The second assumption she had made of Santana had been that the woman is incredibly gay. Of course, she didn't know for sure, but she would like to think that she had pretty good gaydar.

She took into account a few things, starting with Santana's mental resistance to the idea that men could be interested in anything other than her body. Her research of Santana brought up no mention of a boyfriend besides rumors about her sleeping her way to the top of Clockwork, and even then, there was no evidence. Not even a picture that could have been taken the wrong way. Santana stayed so far away from men that the only time she was seen in public socializing with them was at conventions.

Brittany also cited the smaller details. Santana spoke to women differently than she spoke to men, she actually listened attentively, and considered their opinions with a open mind, rather than the brash critical judgments that men's opinions were subjected too. She took care to open doors for the few women in her office, for Brittany especially.

Another hint, was Santana's inability to keep from blushing when Brittany paid her a compliment or made any physical contact, no matter how brief or platonic. Brittany was almost positive that the Latina was attracted to her, and she was flattered.

Recent events only added further evidence.

They made it to the service elevators and Brittany watched Santana punch in the code again, by now she had it memorized, but let Santana do it because she knew she preferred it. Stepping into the elevator in unison Brittany smiled at how quickly this all became a perfect routine.

"So... did someone tell you how I like my coffee, or are you just psychic?" Santana asked, once again watching the numbers on the little screen.

"I asked Quinn," Brittany found herself blushing. She had been gambling that Santana just never asked that particular question. "Is that weird?"

"Not in my book," Santana shrugged. "If I was trying to suddenly spend a shit load of time with someone, I think it would be important to find out the little things that makes their life a little easier. And I'm a _firm_ believer that good coffee is required to start any day off the right way."

Brittany was glad that the brunette understood what she was trying to do, "Thank you, for being so open to this, you have no idea how much this means to me."

"Who am I to keep you from your dreams?" Santana asked softly, never looking away from the floor display. "You're going to be an amazing journalist Brittany."

The blonde felt a warm tension in her chest that she didn't quite understand. She was torn between being touched that Santana cared and bitter that her boyfriend didn't care as much.

"And don't forget that you're keeping my ass out of Maxim," Santana's eyes shifted to the blonde and blue eyes met her gaze. They shared a smirk before looking away shyly. This arrangement was working out for both of them, they needed each other.

"Of course," Brittany smiled, if it was anyone else, she might have added, _I'm sure your ass would look great in any magazine, _but not with Santana. Not when she got that from everyone else.

The door opened and Santana waited for Brittany to step out first before following along. Santana gestured to the door to the COG, "Let me see if your card works, we never did try it."

Brittany swiped her card through the reader and smiled when the light turned green. She wasn't surprised that Santana had fixed the problem. The brunette smiled proudly to herself, she was an awesome hacker, she pushed through the door and let Brittany go through.

"Thank you," the blonde said quietly and Santana blushed lightly, she was glad to finally get behind her desk and put some distance between herself and up and coming journalist.

Brittany took her place by the couch and set her messenger bag next to her to watch Santana run through her morning ritual. Computer, email, blue-tooth, call to Quinn for morning updates, security screen, reply to emails while spying on employes. She hoped that she would be able to continue this and that the feature wasn't pulled. Tomorrow was their big pitch, and Brittany was kind of stressed out about it.

Getting paid to follow around Santana Lopez, now that was a job she would take pleasure in.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Hello all, just wanted to take a few seconds to thank you all for the reviews, and the recs I've spotted on Tumblr. Those make me smile a lot. I appreciate the support and the constructive comments especially. This fic is really close to me and I hope to do it justice.

Also, it is not, by any means, my intention to make this and Artie/men bashing fic. I hope this hasn't come off that way, and if it has, that wasn't exactly what I had planned. I enjoy Artie's character, sometimes. Of course, he's far from my favorite but I've tried to keep things organic to the scenario. Hopefully, I can pull it off.

Again, thank you for all the support.

— Gorshenin.

* * *

><p>Santana couldn't stand to look at the screen, she couldn't stand to listen to the words, all she could do was focus on her breathing and keeping her face a carefully controlled expression.<p>

As if her dignity wasn't riding on this.

This whole thing was a double sided sword. If Brittany's article gets approved she gets exposed on a emotional and personal level, if she gets shoved into Maxim she just gets exposed. She wasn't sure which was worse, but she knew that she could ever earn a shred of respect, it would be with the article and not the photo shoot. A part of her wanted the feature to get approves solely for Brittany's sake. The girl had worked so hard on this already, it would be a shame to ruin it now.

She glanced at the blonde who was speaking in front of a few, more controlling, members of the marketing board and a public relations representative next to Quinn. Rachel Berry was sitting at the end of the table near Brittany and they played well off of each other, but it was clear that Rachel was giving most of the control to Brittany, this was her project. They outlined the timeline, the events they would cover, the shadowing process that integrated Brittany into Santana's work at Clockwork. When she finished there was a round of applause and the floor was opened to questions.

Santana wanted congratulate Brittany on her presentation right there, she knew the blonde had been nervous about it. She thought everything went perfectly.

They sat around the table, throwing pros and cons, wondering about the ramifications to their spring sales. It wasn't the first time that Santana had been talked about like she wasn't even in the room. Again, she felt completely objectified, even Brittany and Rachel's comments weren't directed in a manner that included her as a visible player in the discussion. Santana found herself falling back into the mindset that had long ago accepted that she had no control of her life and that her opinion didn't even matter.

In that moment she was bitter, and resentful and she just wanted to leave. She wanted to quit her job, tell all these people to go fuck themselves and go back into her basement and just live. Her pride asked her, how pathetic was she willing to become? She honestly would rather be slowly torturing herself with these people and have small moments that she could do what she loved, than get run out the the business all together because they wanted to objectify her.

"Now Mr. St. James," Rachel Berry's voice cut through her mental drama and Santana finally focused on what was going on around her. "While I understand, and even admire your hard hitting marketing ploy that plays on the strong public need for sex appeal, mixed with the American pastime of wanting the latest and greatest technology, I do believe that you are doing yourself a disservice by letting that be the only thing the Face of Clockwork seems to represent, when there are so many sides of Miss Lopez that we could utilize."

_Utilize_, Santana was almost offended at the word. The only thing people wanted to utilize her for was something to look at while they were masturbating.

Quinn couldn't keep her eyes off this editor, she wasn't sure how she could just waltz into a corporate meeting of this stature act so unbelievably confident. She was so assured that everything would work out you could almost feel it. She spoke amicably to the board members, ignoring their gruff superiority complex and acting as if they were just sharing ideas around a coffee table.

"Such as?" Jesse St. James was the latest Head of Marketing and was by far the worst thing that had ever happened to Santana's life at Clockwork. He was the orchestrator to her position as the Face of Clockwork, he pushed her to change everything about herself, he put her at the forefront of the conventions, the publicity, the magazines. It was him that wanted her to do Maxim.

"Miss Pierce and I, have done a little research," Rachel sent him a pleasant smile and a new image popped up on the presentation screen. "It seems like your buyer demographic is a little one-sided on the male to female ratio, and I believe that might be because of the continuing objectification of Miss Lopez."

"We believe that our feature," Brittany caught her eye as she spoke up, "will make her more approachable to the female demographic. Representing her as a strong woman who's made it for herself in a highly male dominated field."

"I like to call it Feminism 2.0," Rachel smiled easily, confident that the Marketing officials will be on board. "The Face of Clockwork is a smart, college educated with multiple degrees, and not to mention a drop dead gorgeous techno-powerhouse, and your consumers will be thrilled to know that the Head of IT at Clockwork has more between her ears that the nickname _IT Barbie_ gives her credit for."

Santana visibly frowned at the nickname, to this day it stung her.

"The response from Miss Pierce's article on the past convention, where Miss Lopez was the featured interview, was all quite positive," Rachel continued, "and the technology section on our website showed a promising increase in hits after the publication. This was the only picture of Santana in the article..."

She pulled up a photo of Santana, it was one of the shots Brittany took while she was in the middle of her showcase. Santana felt her skin crawl as everyone in the room dissected the picture, which by all standards was completely modest. She wasn't overly sexed up like other photo shoots, she was smiling softly as she spoke about her new products. Quinn had loved this photo since she saw it for the first time, Santana looked in her element, happy.

"This photo, that can't take away from Miss Lopez's natural beauty, showcases the work, the product, not the sex appeal," Rachel's voice took a slight turn for the dramatic, she was closing her argument. "People are interested in this. They're interested in Santana Lopez for more than her body, and it will be a shame if this company isn't able to let her reach her full potential."

Jesse St. James eyed them both, his mouth hidden behind clasped fingers. There was a moment when everyone realize that this was it, the next thing he said would decide it all. Santana caught Quinn's eyes and they shared a hopeful look.

"Miss Berry, Miss Pierce, you make an excellent presentation, and I appreciate your fresh perspective," Jesse started, slowly in a voice that sounded like a letdown.

For the first time Quinn saw Rachel's confidence waiver, her brown eyes focused entirely on Jesse's face. Santana was watching Brittany ring her hands together under the desk.

He pulled his hands down to the desktop to reveal a sly smile, "I'm sold."

* * *

><p>Brittany took a look around the lobby of Orbit Technologies with a fresh and critical eye. For some reason, she didn't like it as much as she liked Clockwork. The chrome styling and slate gray color tones felt harsh and uninviting. She shivered, even the air was colder in here. Brittany made the familiar walk to the main elevators, it surprised her how crowded and uncomfortable they felt after a week in Santana's service elevator. She missed the freedom to shift back and forth between her feet.<p>

Brittany stepped out of the elevator on the appropriate floor and made her way to the reception desk to sign is as a guest of Artie. She used to think the security was silly, but after seeing how serious Clockwork took it too, Brittany was lucky she didn't need another background check for this building. She kept her Clockwork security badge tucked safely away in her bag.

"Hi Karen," she greeted the kindhearted woman who had worked this desk since she had started seeing Artie.

"Brittany," she smiled up at her from behind her large desk, "it's been a while, so good to see you again. How is everything?"

"Oh you know," Brittany signed the guest log with her stylish loopy signature, "been really busy."

"Writing about anything interesting lately?"

Brittany hesitated for a moment, she didn't want too many people at Orbit knowing about her Clockwork ties. It wasn't for her own sake, she was actually quite proud of this opportunity and that they had managed to get it approved, but she had to think about the feature. Every Orbit employee that knew about her feature was one more person that could jeopardize the entire thing. The privacy clauses in her contract were unforgiving and she was already toeing the line by stepping foot into this building.

"Not really," Brittany finally shrugged, "but I got to be going, I'll see you on my way out."

"Alright, see you then dear."

She made her way into the main floor and couldn't help but compare it to Clockwork. While Clockwork's setup was circular, mimicking the cogs in a clock and promoting a sense of equal standing among the Techs, Orbit's set up looked like the desk version of a hierarchy, with one desk raised on a platform looming over the rest of the work stations.

Thankfully, they weren't in session so Brittany was able to slip through and into Artie's office without drawing too much attention to herself. She could still feel eyes on her, it was common knowledge that Artie Abrams' girlfriend was a looker. She felt a huge surge of sympathy for Santana in that moment. Her next question was, how many of these creepers had Santana had fired and took refuge here?

"Brittany, what are you doing here?" Artie looked up from his computer. His friend Finn, who had been watching the screen over his shoulder, did the same.

"I wanted to stop by, and see you," Brittany could barely contain her grin, she felt the excitement of getting her feature approved flood through her again, she couldn't wait to tell him. She was going to be a journalist.

"I'll give you two some space," Finn nodded between them. "It's nice to see you again, Brittany."

"You too, Finn."

He left and closed the door behind him. With the subtle click, Brittany became aware of exactly how small Artie's office was. Not that she could talk, she lived in a cubical, but... comparatively, maybe this was another reason for him to resent Santana.

"So, how was your day?" Brittany asked after a slightly awkward pause between them.

Artie shrugged, looking back to his computer, "Alright I guess. The boss has been in a mood all day. We've barely gotten anything done so I'm trying to play catch up. I'm going to be swamped all week."

Brittany sat down on the arm of the chair in front of his desk, waiting for him to ask about her day. That was the customary response, to show an interest in someone's day after they've shown an interest in yours. After a few more clicks of his mouse and a long drawn out pause, she asked, "Didn't you have a presentation today?"

She wondered if his presentations were like the ones at Clockwork. After seeing Mike and Jacob present on her first day, Brittany had sat in on at least one a day. If the Techs weren't presenting new product ideas, it was ways to improve old systems, or the new updates to the present operating system. To her knowledge, Artie didn't present very often, so she remembered to ask about it when he mentioned it.

Like how she assumed he would ask about the outcome of her career changing pitch, that he _knew_ was today.

"I was going to pitch," Artie rolled his eyes, "but Finn totally got a kill shot from the boss right off the bat. It was brutal, he grilled him for half an hour, so I wasn't going to press my luck."

Brittany smiled at the words 'kill shot', for the first time feeling a little connected to Artie's world. When they had first met, she had been curious, but after hearing _it's kind of complicated_ so many times, you stop asking. She wondered how much of Artie's world she would be able to understand after this feature with Clockwork, then she asked herself how much of her world would she already know if he had taken the time to explain it.

"What is your presentation about?"

He gave her a little half shrug without taking his eyes off of his monitor, "A new networking system for commercial businesses. You know, like, how computers talk to each other through the internet and wires."

Brittany blinked slowly, she didn't know if she should take offense to that or not. Santana was able to put her work into layman's terms, but certainly not in that condescendingly annoyed tone that gave the impression that it was a chore to explain anything to her.

He still hadn't asked about the feature. By now she had given up hope that he even would. She didn't expect him to be as excited as her, but she felt like a little forced interest was justified.

"So," Brittany was done fishing, "I came by to see if you wanted to go out with me tonight. Some of my friends are throwing a little thing."

A little thing to congratulate her on her big feature.

"Where to?" Artie looked up from his computer, just briefly, to appear interested.

"Grillan," Brittany cited the favored restaurant of her friends. Grillan was a vegan bar and grill that mimicked a roadhouse. Their favorite part was that the only entrees with real meat were in a small section on the back of the menu mocking the daily struggle of vegans in non-vegan restaurants. Rachel had already put out a mass text to get a group together for Brittany's celebration.

"I hate that place," Artie groaned, "I get peanut shells caught in my wheels."

"I'll clean it up for you," Brittany offered to compromise. She knew the _throw your shells on the floor, at each other, at the waitress, wherever,_ policy was a common excuse for Artie to not go out with her friends. He was a favored target of the shell flings.

"Will Rachel be there?"

Brittany frowned, she shouldn't have to be begging Artie to do anything, much less go out and celebrate her biggest story to date. "Yes, Rachel will be there, she's actually putting it together for me. It's kind of like a celebration of sorts."

"So they approved the feature?"

They did, and when he said it like that, Brittany wasn't surprised at how unexcited she felt. She felt more... disappointed than anything. She shouldn't have expected Artie to be excited, or even happy for her. If Artie didn't like something, there was no pretending for the sake of politeness. She used to appreciate his frank nature, she was a fan on honestly herself. Now it grating and too negative for her to brush off like she used to. This had meant too much to her.

When she thought about it, Artie didn't appreciate many things in her life. He thought she her job was below her, he didn't like her friends, he was a snob about her taste in music, and Brittany couldn't ignore it anymore.

"I guess Rachel was right," Artie snorted, "they probably only agreed to get her to shut up."

Right. It had nothing to do with how much work _she_ had put into that pitch, or how much _she_ deserved this big break. Brittany stood up. The movement was sudden and angry enough to draw Artie's eyes from the computer.

"Britt—"

"No," Brittany slung her bag over her shoulder hastily. "I worked really hard for this, and it wouldn't kill you to act like I deserve this opportunity."

His eyes hardened defensively, "How can you expect me to pretend I'm happy about it when I didn't like the idea in the first place."

"Because it's not _about you_, Artie!"

Brittany hadn't expected to start yelling, out of the corner of her eye she could see heads turning her way through the windows of the office. She lowered her voice before continuing, "You know how much this means to me, you _know_. I wasn't asking you to jump for joy but you could have at least asked me how it went, or wished me good luck this morning. That's pretty reasonable."

Artie frowned at her, his pride overruling the part of him that wanted to apologize, "This is exactly why I didn't want you doing this, it's only going to come between us, now we can't even talk about work because you're under contract, you sold your fucking soul to Clockwork."

"Don't act like you're against this for _us_," Brittany scoffed. "You've been against this ever since Santana Lopez was mentioned."

Artie flushed, "For good reason, she's just using you, Brittany. Why can't you see that? She's going to manipulate you into writing about how hard her life is, how the man is keeping her down. When she gets everything she wants because she has a nice rack and puts out."

Brittany wanted to slap him, for insulting the integrity of her writing and Santana herself.

"This isn't about Santana," Brittany spoke coldly, "this is about you not supporting me in what could be the best opportunity for my career right now. How you couldn't get over your stigma against Clockwork to even pretend that you care."

"Good thing you're working at Clockwork now, with the biggest fraud in the world."

He wasn't listening to a thing she was saying, "This has nothing to do with that Artie."

"Of course it does," he pressed on, "you wouldn't be acting like this if you had never interviewed her at that convention."

"You wouldn't be acting like this if I hadn't," Brittany countered, "What is your problem with her?"

"I told you—"

"A lie," she cut him off with a hard look, "I'm giving you this one last chance to be honest with me."

Artie knew her serious face when he saw it, she wasn't kidding. He ground his teeth together, the muscle in his jaw straining.

"I told you everything, she's nothing but a—"

"Artie don't," Brittany cut him off. "Just don't."

"Brittany—"

"No," she sighed softly. "We're done. I can't do this anymore. I can't be with someone who's constantly degrading everything in my life. This is too good an opportunity for me for me to let you ruin it. You _knew_ how important this was to me."

"You're dumping me for your job?"

"I'm leaving you for my dream," Brittany shook her head sadly. "This is my _dream_, Artie. It doesn't matter who, or what, I'm writing about, and it shouldn't matter to you either, and the fact that you _still_ don't realize that makes this easier."

She turned on her heel and walked out of the office, across the floor, feeling every pair of eyes on her as she left. She made it appoint to stop by Karen and make sure she told her how nice it was to have met her, because she wasn't going to be coming back anytime soon. Rachel was waiting for her at a vegan friendly eatery and she wasn't going to let this get bring down her accomplishment for one more second.

* * *

><p>The metal felt familiar in her hands, cold, unwavering and solid. This would never change. This was something she could always rely on. Parts fit together in an order that was predictable.<p>

One thing, plus another, made something.

If you get all the parts together in the right way you get a functioning device. You can make _something_ from parts and pieces. Something you can build, modify, control. This is entirely yours and no one will take it from you, and the most important part is that, it will never just get up and walk away. The small metal parts that surround you will never abandon you.

They will never judge you.

Santana continued her work, her music blaring in the background, the small florescent bulb above her desk and the monitor screens were the only light. She adjusted her glasses to push them back up her nose. There was nothing she wanted to think about besides the material around her. She didn't want to think about the meeting with St. James, or how her reputation is now in the hands of Brittany's magazine.

Santana was just going to pretend it wasn't happening.

Maybe, if she convinced herself that Brittany was just another person in her life, she would be able to open up a little more... and not worry that everything she said will be written down, dissected, edited, rewritten and spewed out in some altered version to make Clockwork look better.

She wished it wouldn't turn out like that.

Santana looked up when her music faded down to a respectable volume and found Quinn by the computer.

The blonde smiled softly, "Hey."

"I didn't mean to keep you up," Santana squinted at widget on her monitor that showed the time, well past midnight. "I lost track of time."

"Don't worry about it, I was putting together some stuff for the next convention. Plus, I wanted to tell you, that photo shoot we were talking about for next month has been bumped up."

"How soon?"

"Two weeks."

"I can't wait."

"I requested Tina, so hopefully she'll be free," Quinn looked at Santana's new project. "What are you working on?"

"Something big," Santana offered simply.

She was never one to talk about her work before she got the bugs worked out. A large part of her was always self-conscious about the possibility that she might not be able to work them out and the whole thing would be a bust.

"With Mike?"

"No," she shook her head lightly, "this one is all me."

Quinn raised her eyebrows but Santana didn't elaborate, she wasn't surprised either. She sat down in one of the stools and waited for a moment.

"Are you sure you want to do this feature?"

Santana didn't answer right away, she should have known Quinn would want her to confirm it a thousand times while they were still sorting out the final paperwork.

"It's this or Maxim, Q. It's a not even a question."

"I just don't want you to feel like you're being forced into this."

"Isn't that exactly what's happening?"

Quinn couldn't argue that point so she kept quiet.

"Besides," Santana mumbled, "Brittany isn't so bad. I read the article on the convention... the interview she did."

Quinn had to close her mouth after it fell open a little, Santana actually read an article about herself?

"I trust her," the brunette continued, she tried not to be bothered by Quinn's blatant staring, "and that crazy short editor of hers."

"Rachel was certainly impressive," Quinn nodded, she recalled the meeting, the fiery brunette. "She controlled the whole presentation without overshadowing Brittany, and without coming off as arrogantly overconfident. I've never seen anything like it. She had Jesse eating out of the palm of her hand."

Santana eyed her friend, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, "Got yourself a girl-crush, Q?"

Quinn huffed and hit Santana on the arm but she couldn't hide her blush, "I'm just saying, I was impressed."

Santana laughed quietly, "Yeah, I know what you mean, shit, if she didn't have such a cushy job already I would proposition her to by my PR Rep. She didn't seem to be the type to let them strong arm me into Maxim."

Santana watched Quinn's face fall and felt like an idiot, "Quinn, I was kidding, shit, I'm sorry."

"I really tried," she ran her hands down her thighs in a way that Santana knew as her being self-conscious.

"Quinn," she didn't hesitate to leave her chair and close the distance between them, she wrapped her arms around her friend. "I know you do everything you can to protect me from them, you have been since you took the job a few years ago, and if not for you I would have been in way worse positions than I am now."

"They've just been so fucking adamant about it," she muttered into Santana's shoulder. Her voice was tired and it made Santana think that this was a battle Quinn had been fighting for some time.

"How long has this been in their heads?" Santana asked.

"Months," Quinn admitted. "I've been able to stomp it out at the start every time if comes up but this time, too many people caught on too quickly and then some guys from Orbit started a campaign online..."

"What?" Santana pulled away so she could see Quinn's face, "why didn't you tell me?"

"Because that's my job Santana," she frowned, a little pride coming back into her voice. "It's my job to stop that shit, and it's your job to keep Clockwork's IT Department running. You have so much to worry about without worrying about those assholes."

Quinn huffed a few strands of hair out of her face, "You don't think I realize how hard that would make it for you? To work with them when they all admit to wanting to see you posed like some tramp in a dirty magazine? You don't think I was right to keep that from you?"

Santana didn't answer, she just pulled her arms tighter around the blonde and Quinn knew she was saying thank you. "I would never replace you."


	7. Chapter 7

Suddenly, now that everything was official and approved, all the paperwork signed, and the memos forwarded; the atmosphere was kind of tense, anticipating the conversation at hand, waiting for two people meeting each other to become the reporter and the reported. Santana remedied that by making sure she was comfortable, in the one place in the building that she was allowed to let her hair down.

She lead Brittany into one of Clockwork's computer labs, an out of the way lab on the twelfth floor that she preferred because of the low traffic. She didn't like sharing a space with people she felt were judging her. Santana moved quietly to her favorite workstation, the one near a window. Brittany took the seat next to her. It was a large desk, with what seemed like an infinite number of drawers. Santana was well versed in each one and what it contained. Her hands never stuttered, never paused, never wavered. She had confident hands.

Brittany had watched Santana bring out a few items and roll up her shirtsleeves before she got to work. She wasn't sure what the Latina was doing exactly, but that wasn't new. She was surprised to find that she wasn't nervous to ask.

"What are you working on?"

Santana glanced up, then back at the materials in her hands.

"I'm just tinkering. I'm disassembling this so I can see how it works, I mean," she snorted, a little amused at herself, "_I know_ how it works, but sometimes, if I rip things apart, I can figure out a better way to put them back together."

"Oh," Brittany nodded, leaning forward in her seat next to Santana.

"One of the biggest problems with our products is that they get too hot if they're running for a long period of time," Santana continued, popping open the cover to a model of tablet her company sells. "I've been bringing up the issue for the past year but nothing ever happens. I even tried to delay the release last fall, but you know... money is money, and they wanted the product out there."

Brittany nodded and watched Santana fiddle around with the next couple of parts, using an impossibly small screw driver to either loosen or pry them out carefully.

"So you're officially my shadow now, huh?" Santana asked even though it was obvious. She decided that they needed to talk about it.

"Looks like it," Brittany smiled a little, she had to admit that she was a little nervous, she wanted to live up to all the expectations that had been placed on her. She wanted to keep Santana out of Maxim.

"You did really well at the meeting yesterday," Santana looked up to meet Brittany's eyes when she said it. "I didn't get a chance to tell you after because of all of the contract stuff, but I was really impressed."

Brittany could fell her cheeks heat up and ducked her head to try and hide it, "Thank you, Santana, that really means a lot to me."

She gave her a half shrug, "I'm just being honest."

She could have been just saying it to be polite and Brittany still would have taken it to heart, because _just being polite_ was more that what Artie was willing to do for her.

"Are we going to play twenty questions or are you just going to watch me mess around with this stuff," Santana asked only half joking.

Brittany blushed at how easy it was to forget she was supposed to be working. Santana saw her open the notebook she had been caring around since she came to Clockwork. It fell open easily, in a well used manner, slimmer than it should be from missing pages, leather bound, soft and worn. It was a well loved notebook and Santana wasn't sure anything about herself deserved to be placed in something so close to the blonde. She wasn't that important.

Brittany skimmed the notes, and from her angle, Santana could just barely make out the writing, a scrawl that looked a little loopy and almost half-cursive. It was a drastic contrast to Santana's own blocky all capitol handwriting. Brittany licked her lips, and Santana waited anxiously for the first question that will get this whole thing started, the tension was killing her.

After a small breath Brittany glanced up to meet Santana's eyes and asked, "What's your favorite color?"

Santana let out the puff of air that she hadn't realized she had been holding and nearly laughed, "Are you serious?"

Brittany hesitated for a moment, dropping her eyes back to her notes, fiddling with the pen in her hand, "Um... yes?"

Santana chuckled to herself, running a hand through her hair, maybe this won't be so bad.

"Uh, red, I guess."

"You guess?" Brittany quirked, amused at the uncertainty.

"Um," Santana shrugged, "I don't know, I want to say black, but that's kind of depressing, and I look good in red so..."

"Red it is then," Brittany agreed and jotted it down in her notebook. Santana watched her do it, a hint of anxiety returning as she was reminded that everything she says is going to be tracked, analyzed, and remembered.

"You?"

Brittany looked up, surprised by the question, Santana herself looked embarrassed.

"I mean," she gave a flip of her bangs to appear nonchalant, keeping her eyes on the computer parts in front of her, "I think, at least in the beginning, it would make this easier for me if we could like, pretend that this isn't an interview and that we're like..."

"Just getting to know each other?" Brittany finished for her when she trailed off.

"Yeah..." Santana spun her screwdriver between her fingers, "I know you're not obligated, and it's probably a weird request, don't feel like you have to or anything—"

"No," Brittany smiled, softly and genuinely, catching Santana's eyes. "I would like that actually, it's blue. My favorite color is blue."

Santana wanted to ask what shade, a navy or cerulean, like her eyes, but kept that to herself, waiting for Brittany's next question.

"What was your first car?"

Santana snorted, rolling her eyes at herself, "Oh my god, when I was sixteen my parents gave me the rights to a five year old Ford Focus. That beater got me from A to B for the better part of my life, I almost cried when it finally gave out my sophomore year of college."

"Where did you go to college," Brittany's interest perked, "well, junior college, I know you have like, five masters degrees."

Santana blushed from across the desk, flattered and bashful, "I thought your research would have told you that, besides, I only have two."

"Oh right," Brittany snapped her fingers playfully, "_only two_, that's not impressive at all. How many minors do you have?"

"Shut up," Santana blushed harder, focusing on her work to try to keep Brittany from seeing. "I'm still thinking about a PhD... I'm not sure I'm going to ever get around to it, I'm so busy. "

"You should keep it in mind," Brittany mused, "not may people get to that point, it's special, and very impressive."

Santana scratched the end of her nose, "Really, the only reason I thought about it was because I... thought that maybe, if I couldn't make it in the real industry, I wanted to teach. I've had some really great teachers."

One side of her mouth twitched down at the thought, Santana had been planing on having a hard in this career since the beginning.

"Where did you go to college?" Santana asked to get the conversation off of herself for a moment and for the sake of pure curiosity.

"I got my bachelors in journalism at NYU," Brittany offered with her own bashful smile, "and you never answered my question."

"What question?" Santana's voice sounded confused, but Brittany couldn't see her face as she reached into a drawer for an impossibly small Allen-wrench.

"My research hit a little bump when it comes to your education, the only information available is from grad school," Brittany flipped to another page in her notebook, "your undergrad was never mentioned in any of my sources, and your enrollment dates don't imply that you got your undergrad at Berkeley. Care to elaborate?"

"What are your sources?"

"A reporter never tells."

"Good thing you're a journalist now," Santana smirked over her work. "How's that feel by the way?"

"The saying still fits," Brittany didn't back down. "Where did you go to junior college?"

"Why does it matter, if my bachelors in computer science is lame compared to my masters in—"

"Because you don't want to tell me for some reason."

She watched Santana look up from her work, a gaze critical and analyzing. She was waiting for Brittany to continue so she could react accordingly.

"You're deflecting Santana," Brittany stated the obvious, "I find it interesting."

"Interesting?"

Brittany watched her shift the metal in her hands, working the battery pack out of its case. She hadn't meant to find a nerve on the first day, "I won't pry, but I am curious."

Santana snorted, trying to be lighthearted about it, "That's your job though, right?"

"To an extent," Brittany shrugged, she didn't want to describe her work as prying. "I don't need to go any deeper than you'll let me."

They were quiet for a moment, readjusting.

"Have you always worked at _The Lead_?" Santana asked quietly.

"Oh, you know," Brittany fiddled with her pen, "I had a few odd jobs, writing up small bits and pieces for a few bigger or smaller publications. When I landed a gig at The Lead everything just fit so perfectly, I love it there."

Santana glanced up from her work to look at the woman next to her, a soft but well placed jealousy in her eyes, "That's great that you love your job. Your boss seems like a level headed woman."

"She is," Brittany agreed wondering what exactly Santana could be capable of if she could focus more of her energy on her work and not of making people think she was worth her title.

"Do you have a favorite article that you've written?"

"Um..." Brittany thought about it, "I don't know, there was this piece I did, when I was first starting out, about a mom and pop bakery in the city. It was going out of business because a Starbucks opened up two lots down the block."

Santana listened carefully, wanting to memorize her words, every detail she could about the blonde.

"After it published," Brittany's smile drew Santana's eyes, "there was like, this rally, a sort of protest against the Starbucks. People stood outside it and waived signs, and completely poached business away from them to direct it all to the bakery."

"Did they still go out of business?"

"No, they actually opened another store on the other side of town."

Santana could hear the pride in her voice.

"Look at you," she teased lightly, "taking a stand against commercialism and all that."

A rosy flush spread over Brittany's cheeks, "I wasn't—that wasn't the angle of my piece, I was focused more on the people, the family, and like, how sad it was that they were losing their business. Rallies against Starbucks were the last thing on my mind."

"And yet that's exactly what happened," Santana chuckled, "because of your words."

Brittany didn't think anyone had ever put so much stock in her writing. Made her feel so important, so accomplished. A part of her heart ached, because she had never felt something like this, and if only Artie could have taken her as seriously as Santana seemed to.

She was still kind of torn up about Artie. It wasn't a crippling depression, or a new found hatred of love, but... when she got home from hanging out with Rachel and the girls, to her empty house, everything felt a little darker. She was alone again, and while she's perfectly capable of living that way, she still didn't like it.

"You can pick it up if you want."

Santana didn't look up from her work when she said it but Brittany flushed anyway, blinking up from the circuit board in front of her.

"I don't want to break it," Brittany mumbled softly, glancing at the small device on the table.

It was something Santana had set aside after removing it from the body of the tablet. She had been clasping her hands together on her lap, or around her notebook, so she could resist touching any of the mechanics around her. Ever since sitting down, she had wanted to rummage through all the drawers, open all of the cabinets, turn all of the switches. Her curiosity was driving her insane.

"You're not going to break it," Santana laughed, sending the blonde a dubious look. There was a lightness in her eyes that Brittany hadn't seen before. "Just don't drop anything and you'll be fine, even then, everything is replaceable."

Brittany glanced around at the desktops filled with parts, bits, things. Objects that had so many different names, things that were nothing special on their own but combined they could be a functioning device.

"I don't know..."

She realized that this is what Santana comes to work for, the moments that she can just work in her element without the Face of Clockwork bearing down on her. She hardly looked like a corporate symbol anyway, with her blazer discarded over the back of her abandoned chair, her shirtsleeves rolled up to her elbows. She hadn't even bothered with her contacts this morning. Brittany loved her glasses.

Santana used the screwdriver in her hand to push the circuit board closer to Brittany, a playful smirk on her face, "Come on Brittany, I promise you won't break it."

Brittany hesitated for just a moment, before bringing her arm up and resting her hand on the table next to the device. She didn't want to touch it quite yet.

"You act like you've never seen any of this stuff before," Santana quirked an eyebrow, "doesn't Abrams have a workshop?"

Her finger, that had been hovering towards the metal, shrunk back at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.

"I was never allowed inside."

Santana's hands stilled, and even though she wasn't facing her, Brittany could see the frown clear in her profile.

"He's an ass."

Brittany wanted to ask what was between them, why they held such an animosity towards each other, but she was scared to. She had already lost Artie because he didn't want to tell the truth, she wasn't ready for Santana to lie to her too.

"That explains a few things."

Brittany looked up, cautiously asking, "What do you mean?"

Santana blushed, licking her lips nervously, "Just that, I didn't understand how you can date him and, you know, not pick up on a few things about the industry. Look at Quinn, she's in public relations but she's spent so much time around me that she knows enough to spot a bullshitter at a convention."

She felt a little put out, because it was true, she didn't know anything about the business Artie and Santana shared. Artie had never thought it was worth explaining to her, maybe he thought she was too stupid to understand it.

No matter what the reason, she felt dejected, and it probably showed on her face because Santana was quick to say, "Don't take it personally, from what I've seen of you, you're picking up on stuff that people have to take college classes for. I'm sure if you're not learning anything about tech from Abrams, it's not for a lack of trying, he's probably just to impatient to give the time of day."

Santana knew it probably wasn't the best idea to insult her boyfriend, but she didn't care. After a second of watching Brittany mull over her words, she reached out and slid the circuit board just a little closer to the blonde's pale fingers.

It was a small gesture but the smile on Brittany's face was enough to make it feel like she had done something right in the world. An uncontrollable sense of pride washed through her.

She watched Brittany finger the small green and sliver mental. The tips of her fingers brushing over the small bits and pieces, the groves and the nobs.

"It looks like a little city right?"

Brittany looked up to Santana's face, a part of her expecting to see the same condescending look on her face that Artie had sported in his office, but it wasn't there, if anything Santana looked a little embarrassed.

"That's the first thing I thought when I first ripped one of these things apart," she looked back to the gutted tablet in her hands, "here let me show you."

She put down her work, and moved her stool over to Brittany.

"This is a circuit board," she gestured to the object in the blonde's hands. "The biggest one in the machine is called the motherboard. They hold information for the computer, they're like a computer's brain."

Brittany's smiled became a little more genuine, and she sent Santana a thankful look.

"This _is_ the computer," she said almost lovingly, "without this, it's just a bunch of metal parts. Electricity travels down these little silver lines like highways," her fingers trailed the device in Brittany's hands, her shoulder brushing the blonde's lightly, "this part holds memory, this part is the CPU, it processes information, then all the information is sent to..."

Brittany listened to the words, she connected them with whatever Santana was pointing out at the time. She made sure to focus as best she could, taking in as much as she could. She wanted to be worthy of Santana's time. To be worth spoken to in this caring and patient manner.

A small hint of citrus floated into her senses.

"Here check this out," Santana shifted back in her stool, reaching into her the pocket of her slacks to pull out her phone. She pried off it's cover and used a screw driver to pop out the battery, reviling a small circuit board. "Even our phones have them."

"I didn't know that," Brittany breathed as the soft scent dissipated into the air. She wondered what kind of shampoo Santana used.

"You'll pick it up as you spend more time around the techs up at Clockwork," Santana set the phone down and picked up her work again, "and you know, if you have a question, just ask."

"I have so many questions," Brittany set the circuit board down and picked up a fan box, spinning the blade absently. "But I don't want to take your time..."

"Brittany," Santana met her eyes, "You could never be a waste of my time."

* * *

><p>They were both a little startled when the door to the lab opened, Santana regained her composure a little faster, already on edge for her coworkers.<p>

"The nerve of you people," the voice, shadowed in a silhouette from the bright hallway lights, rambled on in a distinctly annoyed tone, "my first day back and I find the office empty! No one has seen you all day, you're not picking up your phone, for all I know you're in a ditch on the side of the highway, or hell, finally snapped and _quit_. Goodness knows you can't keep your temper in check without me."

By this time, the slim and fashionable figure came into view as the door slid closed behind him. His eyes were slanted in annoyance, but kept shifting curiously to Brittany.

"Oh, it's you," Santana gave a glance and went right back to her work, seemingly unfazed but the man's entrance, "I thought I had fired your ass."

"Ha, I'd like to see you run a convention without me," he scoffed, "I'd like to see what you would _wear_ to a convention without me."

"Quinn has been doing just fine," Santana narrowed her eyes in her friend's defense.

Brittany wasn't sure if she meant running the conventions or Santana's fashion sense.

"Yeah?" he crossed his arms, unbelieving, "so how come your photo shoot is scheduled with Marcus?"

Santana frowned, "It better not be, she said she requested Tina."

"She can request the Queen of England for all I care," he brushed his sideswiped bangs out of his face, "but I'm the only one that can make it happen."

"So it's Tina then," Santana needed to make sure.

"Of course."

"I knew I kept you around for something," Santana smirked, "but we're being rude, Kurt, this is Brittany Pierce."

"You must be the reporter I've heard so much about," he leaned across the desk to shake the woman's hand, "Kurt Hummel, Santana's assistant, and fashion sense."

"It's nice to meet you. I hear you pick out what she wears to conventions and photo shoots?" Brittany asked curiously, eying the brunette next to her who was trying to pretend she wasn't embarrassed.

"I do, her body is my bronze canvas," he smirked, always enjoying an opportunity to pick on the Latina.

"I'm a huge fan of your work," Brittany smiled slyly as Santana adjusted her glasses, trying to hide a blush.

"Is that your phone?"

Santana and Brittany both looked at the gutted PDA and then each other, a grin spreading over their faces in unison.

"Yeah," Santana shrugged like it was no big deal, not bothering trying to hide her smile, "I needed to show Brittany something."

"You needed to show Brittany the inside of your phone? That's the reason I haven't been able to get a hold of you?"

"It was very informative," Brittany smiled, barely holding in a giggle. "Totally worth it."

"Right," he glanced between the two of them, "anyway, I hate to break up this little _session_, but Santana, you know the floor board meeting is going to hit off in about an hour."

"I know that?" Santana raised an eyebrow, she really just didn't want to leave this little sanctuary with Brittany. "I don't think I do. You see, my assistant has been out for the past few weeks, and my phone broke this morning, I must have missed the memo."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Really? Look, the more of these meetings you miss, the more chances they have of angling against you."

Santana's brow furrowed, he was right, she needed to stay on top of things around Clockwork. That Maxim thing had gotten too close, she needed to start paying more attention to the things going on beyond the IT Department.

"Fine," she set down her tools and Brittany watched her start to pack up.

She paid close attention so she would be able to help next time around. As Santana finished the last of her cleaning, she grabbed her blazer and started to throw it on. She paused, when it snagged on something.

The breath caught in her throat, when she found Brittany's pale fingers around the material. She tried to stay calm, keep the ridiculous heat off of her cheeks. She lifted a single eyebrow to ask the obvious question.

"You need to fix your shirtsleeves," Brittany explained quietly, eyes shifting to the rolls at her elbows, "if you keep it like that for too long your cuffs with lose their shape."

Brittany released her hold on Santana's jacket, flushing under their scrutiny, "you want to look sharp for your meeting, right?"

"A woman after my own heart," Kurt smiled, gesturing for Santana to start following her directions. The Latina did so, with a displeased look on her face.

"Don't pout," Brittany whispered as they walked around the workstation to follow Kurt out of the room.

Santana blushed, rolling her eyes as she worked on her other sleeve, "I'm not pouting."

"Okay," Brittany chuckled softly.

They stopped in Santana's office so she could gather her things for the meeting and check up on some emails. She took the comfortable spot behind her desk as the others took a seat on the couch.

"How's your father Kurt?"

He sighed, his smile fading slightly, "Better, but once you have a couple of heart attacks, there's no coming back form it. Just a matter of time."

"I'm sorry about that... and if you get too depressing I'll have to kick you out of here," Santana met his eyes and they had an understanding. "You know I can't deal with that sentimental crap."

"Good to know, I can't deal with your _lovely_ personality for too long anyway," he smirked and patted Brittany's knee when he found her frowning at Santana. "Oh, don't worry honey, that's just her way of saying that I can have more time off if I need it."

"Oh," Brittany flushed lightly.

"She tries to act tough and heartless—"

"Kurt," Santana cut him off before he could start making her blush again. "I have a job for you."

"What might that be, your majesty?" he stood up and meandered over to her desk.

"I have to go to that stupid meeting, its corporate company stuff so Brittany can't sit in on it, security reasons," Santana stood and offered the blonde an apologetic smile, "I'd like you to see what you can do about getting her a desk so she has somewhere to work and whatever else she needs, desk top, printer, paper, pens. Show her around or whatever, I'll see you both before lunch."

"Your will shall be done," Kurt looked around the office, already thinking about how he could rearrange it. "I'll take care of her, Santana."

"Thanks," she turned to Brittany, "See you later."

"Bye," Brittany was a little sad that she wouldn't be allowed to follow as she watched the brunette leave. When the door slide closed she turned to Kurt, "I don't really need a desk or anything."

"Nonsense," he waved his hand dismissively. "Let her fuss over you. She likes taking care of people, so let her."

"Why does she pretend she's mean then?"

"She has to be mean in this business," Kurt shrugged. "No one takes her seriously when she's a bitch, why would they take her seriously if she showed that she had a heart?"

"I don't know how she does it," Brittany sighed sadly.

"That's what you're here to find out, right?" Kurt teased, "come on, let's go down to supply and see what we can find."


	8. Chapter 8

"Yes, thank you," Quinn sighed, leaning back in her chair, closing her eyes and propping her feet up on her desk.

Her heels had been forgotten under her desk long ago, soft music was playing from her computer. The morning had been wasted playing phone tag with the convention people for the past hour. Put on hold, transferred, questioned, put on hold, forgotten, remembered, transferred. She hated organizing these things. She was so glad Kurt was back in town to give her a little help.

_"We're sorry, Mr. Jasper isn't available at this time,"_ the voice sounded board and uninterested in this conversation. _"May I take a message?"_

"This is Quinn Fabray, from Clockwork Technologies," she tried to sound as professional as possible, running her hand over her face and covering her eyes from the harsh fluorescent blubs above her. "I'm calling in regards to the convention on the twenty-seventh. If you could have him give me a call, that would be great."

_"Will do, ma'am."_

Somehow, Quinn doubted her message would be passes along, but she mumbled her thanks and ended the call. Giving into her juvenile side, she threw the cordless across the room with an aggravated huff, growling, "_Will do ma'am_ my ass, bitch probably didn't even write down my name."

She took in a long breath, trying to count to ten and forget her annoyance.

"That would be her loss then."

A soft voice startled Quinn into nearly falling out of her gripped her desk for balance as she tried to catch her breath, looking up to find Rachel Berry, editor-in-chief standing in between her desk and the door. She had an odd sort of smile on her face that made Quinn blush lightly.

She took another step forward, speaking with a exaggerated softness to tease theblonde, "Sorry for startling you, your door was ajar, and I didn't realize you were a jumper."

"Um," Quinn sat a little straighter, pushing her hair back into place. "Don't worry about it. I was just... on the phone."

Rachel smiled wider, setting the cordless on the desk between them. Quinn stared at it for a moment, realizing that the brunette must have seen her throw it. How embarrassing.

"You dropped this."

Quinn blushed harder, coughing into her fist, "Yes, um, thank you."

"Rachel Berry," she held out her hand, "I know we've met before, however briefly, at Brittany's presentation, but I would like to introduce myself to you now."

"Quinn Fabray," Quinn mumbled, standing to shake her hand and trying to meet the warm brown eyes that were staring back at her. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Rachel chuckled and took back her hand, using it to push a strand of hair behind her ear. She pulled a manilla envelope out of her satchel and laid it down on the desk next to the cordless. "I came to bring you this."

Quinn picked it up, eager to busy herself with something.

"It's my half of the contract authorization," she explained needlessly as Quinn was taking the papers out of the envelope and looking them over for herself.

"You didn't have to bring them over personally," Quinn said not unkindly. She wondered why a woman would of Rachel's position would have made the trip just to hand over some documents. She could have easily assigned a courier.

"I know," she shrugged sheepishly. "I find it refreshing to get out of the office on a regular basis, and I hold a strict policy to meet the people my employees are working with in these sorts of long term situations. I like to make sure everyone is taken care of and Brittany is no exception to that fact. It is my understanding, that you will serve as the... mediator of sorts between Miss Lopez, Clockwork, and my publication?"

"Yes," Quinn nodded.

She goes out of her way to make sure her employees are taken care of? She realizes its healthy to get out of the office on a regular basis? Who is this woman?

"That was the original agreement," Quinn continued, "and I promise you that Brittany is in good hands. I can take you up to see her if you would like?"

"I would love that," Rachel gave her a thankful smile. Quinn stepped back into her heels and moved to the door, holding it open for the brunette. Rachel smiled softly at the gesture, "Thank you."

Quinn pulled out her cellphone and shot a quick massage to Kurt to make sure Brittany was in the office. As they walked Quinn tried to remember everything she knew about the editor. She was vegan, Jewish, liked show tunes, and was a single bisexual that had two gay dads.

None of that could be brought up in subtle conversation.

So she went with something obvious, "So you're an editor? How did you get into that?"

Rachel laughed, remembering her life story, "That is quite the depressing tale, in all honestly."

Quinn gave her a questioning look as they approached the elevators.

"Well," Rachel resigned to tell it, "after high school I was Broadway bound. _So_ sure that I would be the next rising star, and I did well for a starter. I auditioned and landed a small break in role in an Off-Broadway show..." she licked her lips, reliving her dreams and disappointments. "Then, midway through pre-production, I broke my arm. Needless to say, they replaced me."

"I'm sorry," Quinn Offered her a sympathetic frown.

Rachel waved it off, "After that I just needed to stay around the industry while I healed. So kept around, trying to stay in the loop, get ready for parts I could audition for when I was better and had my cast removed. Of course, I needed to get some sort of employment, and I needed to figure out what I could do in the business without actually being _in_ the business. I got an in with a friend, and reporting seemed to be the perfect solution. Things just took off from there."

"Did you ever audition again?" Quinn asked curiously.

"Yes, I did. Then I ended up breaking my leg, quite literally, which I always found hilarious in retrospect," Rachel laughed. "Turns out, I have a calcium deficiency that makes me prone to breaks. Six total so far, and the rigorous schedule of musical theater makes stress fractures very likely, not to mention my habit of being a bit of a klutz."

"That's..."

"Quite depressing?" Rachel smiled, "yes well, I did warn you, but it's alright, my publication has become an excellent source of Broadway related information and is quite the noted review."

"I believe it," Quinn nodded, "I was really impressed with Brittany's piece on the convention."

"As was I," the brunette exited the elevator with Quinn and looked around casually. "She's really come into her own this past year. I'm very excited about this feature she has cooked up, I'm glad that Clockwork went for it."

"Speaking of..." Quinn steeled her resolve and said, "I actually wanted to commend you on how well you handled the presentation, your confidence—how you carried yourself through it was... just amazing, I've never seen Jesse St. James actually listen to an entire presentation without ripping it to shreds."

Rachel flushed bashfully, "Thank you, Miss Fabray, that means a lot to me."

"Please," Quinn gave her a shy smile, "call me Quinn."

They rounded the corner and Quinn swiped her security card in Santana's office door. Rachel looked on, seemingly amused at the high tech security systems that were in place around her. A moment later the door slid open and they walked through.

"Rachel!" Brittany crossed the room to give her friend a quick hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Just came to drop off some paperwork," Rachel smiled warmly, and looked around the office unabashed. "Is this the office of Lopez?"

"The one and only," Kurt came up to them, offering his hand to Rachel. "Kurt Hummel, Santana's assistant and a _huge_ fan of your Broadway reviews."

"Oh, thank you," Rachel took his hand and Quinn could tell that his words were something Rachel loved to hear. "Do you have any suggestions for the next review?"

Kurt looked lost at the idea that his opinion might actually matter, "Oh well, surely you need to mention _How to Succeed in Business?_"

"You know, I was just thinking about that play," the brunette nodded, "how about you write up your thoughts and have Brittany send it to me, maybe I can fit it into the Fan Calls section."

Kurt looked absolutely elated at the idea.

Rachel shared his smile, and glanced over at Quinn and Brittany. "So Brittany, how are you?"

"I'm great Rachel, everything is great," Brittany smiled honestly, she wasn't surprised that Rachel came over herself to check in. The editor was worried about her recent relationship problems. "Santana, Kurt, and Quinn have all been very accommodating, and look, I even have my own desk."

She gestured over to the new piece of furniture that Kurt had called in from supply. It was tucked on the far side of the room and positioned kitty-corner to Santana's so the blonde could face the whole room. Santana especially.

"Oh wow," Rachel smirked, "if I'm not careful you might not come back to work in the cubbyhole hole you're in now."

"Or you'll just have to promote her," Kurt offered slyly earning himself a playful glare from Brittany and a goodhearted laugh from Rachel.

"I'll just have to keep that in mind," she winked at Brittany and turned back to Quinn. "Miss Fabray, I am quite satisfied with the care Clockwork has provided my employee, I am willing to get out of your hair... for now."

"I'm glad," Quinn smiled at the implication that Rachel would be gracing her presence again. "Would you, um... like me to walk you out?"

"I would like that very much," Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear and she held Quinn's eyes until she looked away. The brunette smiled, and turned over her shoulder, "I'll be checking in again soon Brittany, keep doing great things, and it was nice meeting you Kurt."

"Talk to you later Rachel," Brittany waved.

"Same to you Miss Berry," Kurt smiled.

They watched the women walk out of the office before turning to each other with the same knowing smile.

"Totally into each other."

"Head over heels."

* * *

><p>Santana looked around her.<p>

Men. She was surrounded by men. The only other set of ovaries in the room belonged to the woman sitting in the corner, taking notes on the meeting. The recorder.

Her name was Martha, a middle-aged woman that always brought apple fritters to the floor potlucks or company functions. She made the best apple fritters Santana had ever tasted, prompting her to ask for the recipe. Even with the recipe, Santana couldn't make them like Martha did. Santana guessed it was because Martha had more baking experience, she did have three kids. Santana wanted to say that they were in college, but her memory was escaping her at the moment.

She knew the names of all the rest of the people in the room, but that was pretty much all she knew about them on a personal level.

"We have another convention coming up," one of the men continued, "on the twenty-seventh."

Santana scrolled through her tablet and pulled up her notes on the upcoming convention.

"Who are we sending out?"

"The normal crew, Chang, Smithers, Perez, and myself," Santana read off the list she had made earlier that week, "plus Sam Evans."

"Evans?"

Her dark eyes shifted to the man that spoke, her expression made it obvious that she didn't understand why he was questioning her decision.

"Yes."

"He's only been here for a month," he continued, though, a little quieter, "some guys have been here for a year and still haven't been able to get any convention time."

"Evans is working with Mike on the new line that's going to be featured," Santana clarified, "and according to Mike's reports, he has been one of the reasons it's going to be ready by the show date. He deserves to show off his work."

The man nodded, because as long as it was Mike's idea, it was understandable.

They continued talking about mundane things around the main floor. Budgets, the new sick-leave policy, someone's upcoming retirement and when should they throw the party. Santana listened with one ear. She was thinking about if she would ever make it to retirement. Was that what she wanted? She wasn't sure.

Santana let her mind stray from the meeting room and back to her office. What was Brittany up to? Was Kurt taking care of her? Making sure none of the creepers were taking advantage in her absence? Since word about Karofsky's banishment got around, no one had dared even speak to Brittany in Santana's presence.

She liked it that way.

Brittany, of course, was a very friendly person and took advantage of a few opportunities to talk to the people close to Santana. She had been interested in the progress of Mike and Sam's project and both men were respectful to the journalist. Santana didn't have to worry about them.

But, if Jacob Ben Israel came within twenty feet of her new shadow, there would be trouble.

The unspoken rule around the department was not to talk to the blonde unless she spoke to you first.

Santana pulled out her, newly reassembled, phone and sent a quick text to Kurt, asking if everything was going alright. She got a quick reply about trusting him to do his job, and yes, Brittany was fine.

There was a picture attached to the message. When she opened it she was barely able to control her urge to smile. Brittany smiling broadly at Kurt's phone as she sat behind a desk. She could tell by the background that it was in her office, her notebook and a laptop on top of the desk. Santana couldn't help but feel that the woman belonged there. She forwarded the photo to her personal email and set down her phone.

A moment later her phone buzzed again, this time from Brittany's number.

_"I'm fine, awesome even. You shouldn't worry so much, Santana."_

Santana ran her thumb over the screen, was she worrying too much? Was she crossing into overprotective?

Her reply was honest, _"Just because I hate it here, doesn't mean you have to too."_

_"Trust me, so far, working with you here has been a dream."_

Santana bit the inside of her cheek, secretly hoping Brittany like working with her more than the working at Clockwork part. Seeing the blonde was quickly becoming one of her favorite reasons to come to work everyday.

_"I'm glad."_

With that settled, she could turn her focus back to the meeting.

"That's all we have on the agenda," the senior floor manager glanced over his notes again. "Anyone have anything for the group?"

"I had one question," a man raised a finger casually as he leaned back in his chair.

Josh Coleman paused, letting everyone turn to him, making sure he had everyone's attention. Santana just wanted to get out of the room. There was always that one asshole that wanted to keep everyone in the meeting for his one question.

After he became confident that everyone was listening, he continued, "A question for you, Santana."

Her stomach churned, because she was _not_ on a first name basis with this man. Apparently, working at the same company meant she was friends with everyone. Santana fancied herself the most antisocial person in this entire building, she wished everyone else would take the hint and not talk to her.

She looked at him with an expectant expression, she refused to ask him to supply the question that was keeping her in this chair. If he had a question, he could ask it without any sort of prompt from her.

He waited for her to ask, he wanted her to concede to him, but she wouldn't. After a noticeable pause, he cleared his throat and continued, "That woman, the blonde, that's been following you around the company."

She kept her face from changing into anything challenging, it probably wasn't a good idea to let everyone know just how protective she was of Brittany. That might turn this into a game of _lets see how close we can get to the reporter without setting off Santana_. Or even, _lets see if we can get IT Barbie to lose it_. Right now, Brittany was a great asset and a huge vulnerability.

His prompt had certainly cued everyone's interest. The only information about the mysterious shadow was only rumors and hearsay. Jesse St. James had told everyone involved to keep the feature quiet unit they had come to a final decision about it. The business men around her were watching closely, awaiting an explanation.

Again, Santana kept quiet, wanting the man to pick his words, she wasn't going to offer anything freely.

"Was there a question in there somewhere?" she asked dryly. "I must have missed it."

"What's her purpose here?" he slung an arm over the back of his chair, his crisp suit a designer model that would have impressed Kurt, but everything about his posture screamed arrogant to Santana.

"She's a journalist," Santana started carefully, the assistant ruse was ridiculous and too many people knew about Brittany's true nature to keep it up, "she's going to be observing the IT Department for a few months. I expect everyone to treat her like the professional she is."

That's all she wanted to say on the matter so she closed the cover of her tablet and stashed her phone in her pocket, ready to leave.

"What's her name? Surely, we should throw a mixer to welcome her to the Clockwork family," he couldn't keep his lips from curling at the corners. "It's only good hospitality, I'm sure everyone would like a chance to introduce themselves to such a... charming young woman."

Her eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, which clashed ominously against her light chuckle, "No, I don't think so."

Did he think she would let him plan an event that would give him, and all the other tactless employees at Clockwork, an excuse to talk to Brittany? To parade themselves around her, in hopes that she would be interested in them? As if they really had a chance with the woman? Over her dead body.

He faltered, unsure what she found funny, "Why not?"

"How about this, _Josh_," she said his name with the same tone she used when talking to the mindless voyeurs at conventions.

"Maybe instead of mixers, you should focus on finishing up those sexual harassment suits with legal, I know you're trying to hush them up, but money doesn't keep everyone quiet," she smirked when the last of the confidence drained out of his face. The men around her promptly looked everywhere but the man in question, coughing into their fists, or shifting in their chairs. They all knew the truth. "You'll have to excuse me if I'm a little hesitant to allow you near my personnel after you've already scared off so many _charming young women._"

"Those are allegations—nothing has been proven in court—"

"Those allegations are all I need to know," Santana cut him off, she looked around, challenging anyone else to say something. Perhaps come to his defense? No. She didn't think so.

"Jesse St. James put out a policy regarding internal journalism," she stood, finished with this conversation, "stating that Miss Pierce _is not_ to be acknowledged unless she requests an individual audience with one of our employees. I _strongly_ suggest you follow the protocol. I'll forward you the memo."

She turned on her heel and walked towards the door. As she passed, Martha gave her a little smile, one that she only returned when she was sure no one at the table could see her face.

The instant the door clicked behind her, the breath she had been holding slipped from between her teeth. She really hated the confrontation. When a woman makes a strong stance about anything, she's a bitch. When she is weary about men with loose tongues, wandering eyes, and twitchy hands, she's a vindictive man hater.

She really just couldn't win.

"Santana!"

She looked over her shoulder at the sound of Quinn's voice. The blonde was standing next to the door of the floor lobby, a familliar short brunette at her side. Even though all she wanted was to get back to her office, she started over to them to be polite. This woman had been a contributing factor in keeping her out of a revealing magazine.

"Quinn," she nodded to her friend as she came into speaking distance, her eyes shifted to the editor-in-chief. Why was she here? To speak to Brittany?

"Santana," Quinn seemed to sense her question, "Rachel here came by to drop off the final paperwork, and to check on Brittany."

Santana bristled, still agitated from the meeting, "I can assure you, she's being taken care of."

She would make sure of that. Why didn't people understand that she was going to do everything in her power to make sure Brittany was comfortable here, comfortable in a way she could never be.

"Do you want to speak to her? I've just come from a meeting but I can—"

Rachel laughed, which only made Santana frown deeper, "No, thank you Miss Lopez, but I've just been to see her. In your office actually."

Santana's eyes shifted to Quinn who nodded subtly. She realized that Quinn had brought the editor here to check on the journalist. Quinn would have made sure that Rachel saw what she needed to be satisfied.

"I must say that I'm quite impressed with the courtesies you have extended my friend," Rachel smiled warmly, glancing back in the direction of Santana's office. "I hope she doesn't assume the rest of her assignments will be as accommodating."

"I just want her to be comfortable," Santana gripped the case of her tablet a little firmer. "I appreciate what she's doing for me."

Rachel picked up on what was implied, "Yes, she told me about that little situation, the ultimatum between my publication and... another."

Santana was thankful for her discretion and uncomfortable with her knowledge. Quinn licked her lips by Rachel's side, nervous about Santana's reaction. She needn't worry, Santana wasn't about to be anything other than polite to Rachel Berry.

This was Brittany's boss. Her boss's boss, actually. This woman was someone that Santana needed to take into consideration, because she had power over Brittany. Even though they were friends, and to what extent Santana wasn't sure, power was power.

She knew enough about power struggles to know better than get on the boss's bad side.

"I just want you to know that we really hope that this works out for everyone," Rachel continued, glancing around and lowering her voice as if they were conspiring against Clockwork itself, "I think that if we play our cards right, we all have something to gain here."

"Let's hope," Santana agreed shortly, they all had something to gain, but she thought she was the only one with something to lose.

"Rachel's invited us to dinner," Quinn was apologizing with her eyes, in a way only Santana could understand, and the way the Latina tilted her head just slightly to the left made her want to say it out loud. Santana hated things being sprung on her, especially in front of people, when it would be beyond rude to decline.

"To celebrate the feature," Rachel added smoothly, "I thought it would be nice for you and Brittany to talk outside a work environment."

Santana could feel Rachel studying her face, looking for the hesitation she felt, analyzing the swarm of emotion her eyes. She wanted to see Brittany outside of Clockwork, that was a given. Did she want to see Brittany too much? Was she nervous about what Brittany might think of her outside the safe professional walls of Clockwork?

"Us as in, you two, me, and Brittany?" she needed to make sure there wasn't going to be any plus-ones on a wheelchair. "_Just_ the four of us?"

"Yes," Rachel brushed some hair behind her ear, her eyes glancing to Quinn, "I would appreciate getting to know you both."

"That sounds great," Santana knew Quinn would have a good reason for cornering her into this. It's not like she wouldn't enjoy the time with Brittany, but still, it might be better she kept a little professional distance. "I'm sure Quinn's willing to talk logistics with you, but I have to run, she'll fill me in later. It was nice seeing you again, Miss Berry."

"Please," Rachel brushed off, taking Santana's offered hand, "call me, Rachel."

"And call me, Santana."

She supposed she could deal with being on a first name basis with Brittany's boss, she had done a number on Jesse St. James, and that was always points in Santana's book.


	9. Chapter 9

She was in such a rush to get into her office that she almost dropped her ID card. Santana took a deep breath through her nose, trying to center herself before leaving hostile territory and entering what she considered her safe zone. The door slid opening, her computer welcoming her and reminding her about the many unanswered emails she had to take care of. At least Kurt was on top of the phone calls.

She glanced around, finding her assistant at his usual spot on the couch, and Brittany... sitting on top of the newest piece of furniture in her spacious office.

"What do you think?" Kurt waved his hand at the new addition, and the blonde on top.

It was a decent desk, though not as impressive as her own and obviously basic company stock. Brittany seemed content with it, as she sat on top of it and not in the chair behind it. Santana eyed the placement compared to her own, the corners were almost touching, so that together the desktops made an L shape. If they both sat down, Brittany was going to be just under four feet from her, less if she stayed on top of the desk instead of behind it.

"You're happy?" Santana asked the blonde, who nodded carefully.

Brittany was hoping she wasn't intruding too deeply into Santana's space.

"Then it's perfect," Santana's sent a briefly amused glance in the blonde's direction as she made her way to her desk. "Is that how journalists sit in their offices at _The Lead?"_

"I wouldn't know," Brittany tucked her legs under her a little tighter, "I don't have an office, I'm still in a cubicle."

"I remember my first cubical," Santana gave her the barest of smiles, "I was between these two idiots. They were fans of rival football teams and were always playing pranks on each other. A few times I was caught in the crossfire."

Brittany's eyes lit up, curious and intrigued, and Santana dived into a story about one of their spoon-catapult-fights gone wrong.

She told the story to the best of her memory, maybe embellishing the way it all played out to make it a little more humorous, and a little less deviant. Her white lies were worth the amused grin on Brittany's face. Santana found herself smiling along with the blonde, the tension from the meeting disappearing with each giggle that met her ears.

"I can't believe you would do that," Brittany bit her lip, "didn't you get into trouble?"

"No one could prove it was me," Santana shrugged, "the building was being renovated anyway, so if a load of sopping wet balls of paper, _just happened_, to fall through the ceiling tiles... how would they link me to that?"

"I still can't believe no one got hurt," Kurt was less than impressed at Santana's underhanded office battle tactics.

"They had some pretty hard heads," Santana rolled her eyes. She wasn't about to sympathize for people that made her hate coming to work everyday. "It was just plaster, no big deal."

"How was your meeting?"

Santana glanced back up at Brittany, because from her position on the desk, and how close their desks were to each other, she had to look up to the blonde. She found it kind of intimidating.

"It was fine," Santana downplayed the drama, "just boring corporate crap like retirement parties, sick leave policies, blah blah blah."

"Yada, yada, yada," Kurt smirked from the couch, too busy on his smart-phone to be paying too much attention.

"Really?" Brittany's head tilted slightly, "You seemed kind of upset when you walked in. Like, a little stressed."

Santana's eyes slid back to her computer, "You know how I put that new guy, Evans, on the project with Mike?"

"Yeah," Brittany had spoken to them a few times when they brainstormed in Santana's office after hitting a snag in production.

"It was nothing serious, but some guy was questioning why I'm letting him go to the convention as a showmen instead of some of the other, less productive, people around here."

"Is that supposed to be your decision?" Brittany asked to clarify.

"Yeah, it is," Santana felt being on her computer in the middle of this conversation, so she sat back in her chair and looked back to Brittany's concerned face, "and it's not like they made me change my mind, it's just that..." she paused, looking for the right words, "I don't like it, when they question my decisions."

Brittany watched her, cross her arms over her chest in a defensive manner, as if expecting Brittany to tell her she was being petty.

"Who's _they_?" she asked calmly, wanting to know more, but not wanting Santana to get any more on edge, she had just loosened up.

"The floor managers, they handle the mundane company crap," Santana was pretty sure her job was more important than any of them combined.

"How did you handle it?"

Piercing blue eyes looked down at her, Brittany was nothing more than curious, but her eyes had a certain expectancy to them that make Santana feel obligated to answer as truthfully as possible.

Santana's eyebrows furrowed, her gaze lost in those blue eyes. They way Brittany was looking at her so intently, like she could see right through her, it was making Santana's pulse jump, the air in her chest tight. She was worried about the things Brittany could see in her. Maybe she would learn too much.

"I told them Mike's reports showed he was an active member of the team, and they were barely making the deadline as it was, so without him they would have needed to push back their show date."

"You said it just like that?"

Her mouth fell open, second guessing herself, looking a little lost at the interrogation, "Kind of? Pretty much, yeah."

Brittany slid off her desk and Santana followed the movement with her eyes, watching the strong pale hands grip the edges of the desk confidently, lowering her body to the ground. A flash of an image passed through Santana's mind. Brittany, on top of the desk, in an entirely too inappropriate manner.

She shook her head to clear it, feeling her cheeks start to warm as Brittany started to speak again.

"I'm sorry about the rapid fire," Brittany looked a little sheepish, sinking into her chair. "I get ahead of myself sometimes."

"It's alright," Santana mumbled, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. "If the journalism thing doesn't work out, try the secret service, interrogation might be right up your alley."

Brittany flushed, "Rachel always said I can get a little intense when I want an answer."

"Speaking of," Kurt looked up from his phone with a smile, still a little excited, "her boss, Rachel Berry, _the_ Rachel Berry, came by to check in."

"I spoke to her on my way in," Santana looked back to Brittany, "apparently she approves... of all of this."

"Don't worry about it," Brittany laughed, picking at the corner of her notebook, "she's been kind of looking for an excuse to get back in the building."

"You mean an excuse to see Quinn again," Kurt smirked.

Santana frowned, "What?"

"Oh my god, this is good," Kurt bounced out of the couch, "but it'll have to wait because our food just arrived, I'll be right back."

He left the office with a flourish, leaving Santana alone with her shadow.

"How was the meeting," Brittany asked quietly, "...honestly?"

Honestly? What was Santana supposed to say? There was a Grade A chauvinist with his eye on you? That she had to try to underhandedly defend Brittany's honor to the rest of the floor's management without revealing that she was unprofessionally emotionally involved in the blonde's well-being?

"Here, um..." she didn't want to have this conversation, "let me talk to you seriously for a second."

Brittany watched her shift uncomfortably in her chair, crossing her legs, then glancing at her nails to keep from making eye contact.

"Some of the guys," Santana wasn't sure how to word this, "were asking about why you are here. Following me around."

Brittany waited, a little concerned at Santana's discomfort.

"I told them you were a journalist, and that you're doing a story on the IT Department," Santana could feel her stomach clench. "They were uh, interested in you... in um, an unprofessional manner."

"That upset you?"

That wasn't the question she was expecting Brittany to ask.

"Yeah," she flushed at how truthful that guess was, "just like that thing with Israel, I don't want this to be a toxic work environment for you."

Brittany considered her words. The way she didn't quite meet her eyes. She thought it bothered Santana on a deeper level than that.

"They don't need to be talking about you like that," Santana finished when Brittany didn't say anything right a way. "It's disrespectful and I had to shut them down before they start to think that they can get away with it."

"You said something to them?" Brittany felt something inside her chest flutter peculiarly.

"Of course I did," Santana miffed, brushing her bangs out of her face, "I told them to keep their eyes to themselves, and not to talk to you until you spoke to them first."

Was that too much information? Santana watched Brittany's face, waiting for her to get suspicious of Santana's protective nature. She was just about to say that she had just be quoting St. James' policy, to make it look like she wasn't going to far when Brittany smiled.

Santana fought back a frown when she noticed, "What?"

The journalist, gave her a half shrug, "It's just really nice that you care, Santana. I really appreciate it."

She adjusted her glasses slightly to hide her blush.

Brittany had really wanted to tell her that she was adorable for wanting to keep the creepers away.

"I don't mean to be all... controlling about it," Santana felt like she needed to clarify, "you're allowed to talk to whoever you want... I just didn't think that _those kinds_ of invitations would be welcome, I mean, with Abrams and all."

She had mumbled that last part because the words felt bitter on her tongue. She actively tried to forget that Abrams was involved with the journalist on any level.

"You're right," Brittany licked her lips, "I wouldn't mind keeping that sort of thing to a minimum," she took a little breath, "but not because I have a boyfriend... because, I... don't have one anymore."

Santana's eyes blinked a few times before pegging Brittany with a confused expression, "You're not—you're not with Artie anymore?"

"I broke it off with him, like, an hour after we closed the deal with Clockwork," Brittany scratched her cheek, unsure why it felt so significant to tell Santana this.

Maybe it was because of her obvious history with the man, maybe it was because she cared more about Santana's opinion of the breakup than Rachel's. She watched Santana carefully, hoping to see something there. She wanted Santana to react a certain way. She didn't know what she was looking for exactly, but she knew it was important.

Santana sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, slowly releasing it between her teeth. She was thinking about what this meant, what was the most appropriate way for her to react. Brittany followed the teethmarks with her eyes.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly, genuinely concerned. She wouldn't say she was sorry for the breakup. She wouldn't do that, even though that's what you say in these kinds of conversations.

"I'm fine," Brittany gave her a reassuring little half smile. "It had been been coming for a while."

"So, it was mutual?" Santana asked carefully.

The blonde let out a puff of air in a ghost of a laugh, "No, I broke it off with him. It was kind of harsh actually, in his office, I was really short with him..."

She didn't regret it, and Santana could see it in her face, hear it in her voice. Santana paused when she thought of something suddenly.

"You didn't," she hesitated, not wanting this to be the case, "you didn't do that for the sake of the feature did you?"

Brittany looked up from Santana's lips to her eyes, soft with a sympathy for the heartbreak, and curious about intentions.

"No, I did it because..." she shook her head and trailed off, trying to put it into words.

"You don't have to talk about it," Santana misinterpreted her pondering for discomfort.

"It's fine Santana. I did it because, I was trying to follow my dreams, and he was holding onto an old grudge."

The way Santana's lips thinned told Brittany she knew what she was implying.

"He's an ass," Santana didn't want to acknowledge that she was part of that grudge, but on some level she liked that, even indirectly, she was responsible for the breakup. "A nice girl like you can do so much better than him, Britt."

Brittany flushed, from the compliment and the use of her nickname. She hoped it meant Santana was becoming more comfortable with her.

"I'm really glad you're not wasting your time mourning your loss," Santana went on, the giddy warmth she had started feeling in her chest ever since hearing about the breakup, leaked out a little in her smile, "you're way better off without him."

Brittany watched the corners of her mouth perk up, in that playfully impish smile. Santana was happy for her her new found freedom. That was what she had been looking for.

"Yeah, I think so too."

* * *

><p>"I don't believe you," Santana waved her fork between the gossipers on the couch in her office, "either of you."<p>

"Why not?" Kurt asked defensively over his takeout.

"Well first off," Santana set her fork down so she could list things off on her fingers. "Quinn isn't gay. The last time she's shown any interest in women was back in college. She's devolved into a fetish for horrible boyfriends."

Brittany laughed into her takeout at Santana's choice of words.

"That doesn't mean—"

"Second, you think everyone's in love with everyone. Remember that time you thought Mike and I had a thing?"

"He was totally into you before you went all—"

"And then Mike and the mail boy? And then Quinn and Puck? And then Puck and Mike?"

"So I might have a slightly overactive imagination..."

"Third, I can't take Brittany's judgment seriously because she thought Quinn _and I_ were getting it on."

"You're living together," Brittany defended herself. "The first time I was in your house she was in your kitchen, making you a sandwich. I had known you both for like, half a second."

_"Meaning,"_ Kurt grinned with a wink, "you're both passable as lesbians, so Quinn's not that far off from being the real deal."

Santana flushed, meaning she wasn't that far off from the real thing, and while she and Kurt both knew that was a fact, she wasn't ready for it to come to the blonde's attention.

"If anyone would be able to live with you, _getting it on_ or not," Kurt added, "it would be Quinn. She's the closest thing you've ever had to a serious relationship since I've started working here."

"You don't know anything about my personal life," Santana rebuffed, kind of insulted.

"Because you don't have one," Kurt said like it was obvious.

Santana took a bite of food so she wouldn't have to answer, pretending Brittany's eyes weren't on her.

"We're just saying that there seemed to be some chemistry there," he continued.

"Between Q and the short editor lady?" Santana quirked an eyebrow and put her eyes on Brittany. "The editor that took every opportunity to mention how 'undeniably attractive' I am at the pitch to marketing?"

"What?" Kurt laughed.

"She said it around five times," Santana rolled her eyes. "She even pulled up a picture to show just how attractive I am standing next to the latest Clockwork products."

"She knew what marketing wanted to hear," Brittany shrugged, trying to defend her boss. "It worked didn't it? And it's not like she can deny it, you're hot Santana, undeniably so."

Santana stared at Brittany for a moment, who was too busy unscrewing her ice tea to notice that her comment had rendered the brunette momentarily frazzled and Kurt with a large smirk.

"She is bisexual, right Britt?" Kurt asked to change the subject a little.

"Yeah," Brittany confirmed. "Her last girlfriend's name was Harmony. She hasn't seen anyone in a while now, and if you ask me, she's ready for someone nice, Harmony was not my favorite person ever."

Santana could have said the same thing about Brittany's situation.

"Hm," Kurt mulled it over. "So there is a chance."

Santana was thinking about it too. Was that the reason Quinn was willing to spring this dinner on her? To give her and excuse to have dinner with the editor? It was certainly more convenient to make this a work-ish related function than to just ask Rachel out to dinner herself.

It was something Quinn would do.

Santana sighed, like so many others in this company, maybe there was something to these allegations.

* * *

><p>Santana didn't ask if there was a secret motive to organizing this dinner with the women of <em>The Lead<em>, if there was she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Quinn had her personal life, Santana had her own, and that's the way it stayed. If one of the women didn't come home until late, or even the next morning, it wasn't mentioned. Santana had met a few of Quinn's previous boyfriends, and after hating each one, Quinn decided it would be easier to just not bring them home. Santana herself hadn't dated since college, when she wasn't in the Clockwork spotlight constantly.

Things had been easier back then, when she didn't have to worry about her image or any sort of public opinion. Now she reflected a company, now everything she did could get her into trouble with Clockwork.

"What's this place even called?" Santana asked, Quinn had put programed an address into the GPS on her dashboard, but the name of the restaurant wasn't displayed.

"Tyia's," Quinn pulled up the information on her smart phon., "It's a Thai place. Really good ratings."

Santana knew her friend had probably researched everything about the restaurant, right down to what she was going to order. Quinn was the type of person to want to know everything about a situation before she involved herself in it. She was the one to check the weather before a business trip, and Googled the local restaurant scene before she got there, because you just never know.

Santana was comfortable with letting her do all the worrying tonight, she just wanted to get through it. While Santana could appreciate the blonde's need to feel in control of at least one aspect to tonight, she figured that being with Brittany would mess her up enough that no matter how much prep-work she did, she would still be a blubbering, blushing, mess.

She just needed to come to terms with that before they got to the restaurant.

* * *

><p>Brittany could tell that Santana was uncomfortable the moment she walked into the restaurant. Quinn was a little on edge too, they walked in close together, finding Rachel and Brittany in the lobby and offering brief smiles. As they approached, the women of Clockwork extended their hands in almost near symmetry. When your social awkwardness threatens to show itself, revert to business mode.<p>

"Brittany, Rachel."

"It's nice to see you both."

Brittany and her boss shared an amused look and took the offered hands.

"Santana," Brittany echoed the single name greeting as she shook the Latina's hand.

It felt comfortable, callous palms scratching her own. She wondered how much time she needed to spend assembling and disassembling computers to get hands that feel like they've been cultured.

"Shaking hands is kind of professional for a social outing don't you think?" Rachel smirked, holding Quinn's hand a little longer then professionals would, but it was worth it to see a small flush spread over the blonde's features.

"I'm sorry, I guess—"

"I'm messing with you," Rachel waived to the hostess, "they're holding a table for us."

Quinn and Rachel started off, Santana and Brittany following behind closely. The taller blonde stage whispered to the Latina, "You look nice."

"Thanks," Santana flushed, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She didn't feel very nice, in a well-loved pair of jeans and a gray tee shirt, but maybe that was Clockwork warping her self-image. "You too."

And she meant it, Brittany rocked the casual jeans and a nice blouse look much better than her. The scarf draped loosely around the blonde's shoulders added a hint of style that reminded Santana of the first time they met. Brittany pulled off casually-pretty-professional effortlessly.

Brittany smiled her thanks, smoothing down the front of her blouse. She wasn't looking for any more of a compliment than that, she knew Santana didn't want to come across as being too forward.

The waitress lead them to a square table in the far corner, subtle, discrete, out of the way. A table that would have been perfect for a romantic evening. Santana sat down only after Brittany was seated on her left, Quinn on her right, Rachel across the table from her. This was going to be a blast. Her eyes roamed around the restaurant for something to do in the odd tension. The place was quaint, nice and homey, but with a underlying sense of high quality.

"What are you having Q?"

"The Paad Khee-Mao," she answered confidently. That was the one thing she was confident about right now.

"Have you been here before?" Rachel asked curiously? "You didn't say you had when we were making plans."

"What? No," Quinn shook her head slightly. "I've never been here before."

"Oh," Rachel gave her a puzzled smile, "it's just that, you didn't even open your menu..."

Quinn stared at the unopened menu in front of her, feeling the heat slowly spread over her cheeks. She opened the menu and sure enough there was her desired entree, under the House Favorites listing.

"She already looked up the menu, online," Santana offered smoothly, noticing Quinn's embarrassment, "I'm allergic to peanuts, and Quinn always checks if they use peanut oil before we go out to a new place."

"That's very considerate of you, Quinn," Rachel smiled kindly and touched the girl's arm lightly. Quinn flushed, thankful she didn't have to explain her nervous Googling habit.

"I was hoping she was psychic," Brittany frowned playfully, pulling attention away from the other blonde, "I didn't know you had a food allergy, I'm doing a horrible job getting to know you."

"Well," Santana squinted at her menu, playing along, "normally that's third date material, but for you I'll make an exception."

It was a silly comment, one that didn't meant as much as any other sarcastic one liner Santana supplied on a daily basis, but it made Brittany's heart beat heavily.

The waitress reappeared, saving Brittany from having to reply with any sort of measurable wit, "Are you ready to order?"

They ordered, Santana ending up getting the same thing Quinn was having because she trusted her judgment. Rachel ordered something with a lot of vegetables and Brittany was more concerned about finding the dish with the most interesting name.

"Do you even know what you ordered?" Santana asked almost concerned, she glanced over to where Quinn and Rachel had started their own little conversation about the vegetarianism compared to veganism and Santana could hardly be interested.

Brittany smiled, "No, that's what's so exciting about foreign food. Besides, Rachel would have stopped me if it was something she didn't think I would like."

"You could just look at the captions," the Latina suggested quietly, "it's all there in English."

Brittany shook her head, unbelieving, "Now where's the fun in that. I guess I just like the surprise."

"Huh," she sat back in her chair, wondering what it's like to be comfortable leaving things to chance.

"You know you should try it sometime."

"What?" Santana blinked, had she been that transparent?

"Letting loose a little," Brittany suggested with kind eyes, "like I said, you worry too much."

Santana tried not to get defensive, she knew Brittany had a point. She should be trusting the blonde's opinion, she had been getting paid to watch Santana's life for the past few weeks.

"What do you do for fun?" Brittany asked, and when Santana just stared blankly at her she continued, "you know like hobbies. Entertainment. Things you enjoy doing that have nothing to do with your work."

Santana wasn't sure she had hobbies outside of her job, "I workout? I like to run."

"I can tell," Brittany's eyes dipped, in an appreciative glance, that made Santana's pulse thready, "but that's not fun, that's work. Hence the name, _work_out. What do you do for fun?"

"I um..." Santana frowned. When was the last time she genuinely enjoyed what she was doing outside of her computer lab. "I like to play racquetball."

Brittany's face became puzzled, "That game that's kind of like tennis, only you're in a little room?"

Santana grinned, "Yeah. Now that's a workout, and it's fun."

"You're insane," she laughed, but didn't notice the light in Santana's eyes, "I've only seen it played once, and it looked dangerous."

"It's only dangerous if you don't know what you're doing," she lowered her voice, "like Quinn over there, _total_ mess. See this?" she leaned a little closer, pointing to a spot on the corner of her jaw, just under her ear, "There's a scar, like an inch long, from Quinn smacking me in the face with a racket. Caught me right on my jawbone."

Brittany leaned over the arm of her chair, and sure enough, even in the dimmed lighting, a thin but visible scar ran along the curve of Santana's jaw. So small you wouldn't have noticed unless she pointed it out. It was the only thing marring her flawless skin.

Such beautiful bronzed skin.

Brittany, because she had an excuse to look, let her eyes roam a little. The soft bend of her jawline, to the sensual slope down her neck. Those ear lobes... were just asking to be—

Something tapped her shin, pulling her out of her haze. Brittany sat back in her seat smoothly, not drawing attention to herself. She glanced over and sure enough Rachel sent her a look while Quinn was distracted by the photo the editor had pulled up on her phone.

Santana shifted back into her chair fully, oblivious to Brittany's leering, "So you've never played before?"

"No," Brittany chuckled breathlessly, taking a sip of water to wet her tongue.

"You should try it sometime," Santana repeated the blonde's words with a sly smile, "I could show you how to play, it'll be fun."

If Brittany had thought about it, maybe getting locked into a small room with Santana to work up a sweat, breathe heavy, and have a little fun, might not have been the most professional thing to do, but she hadn't thought about it before she answered, "I would love to."

Santana's face lit up into a pleased smile, one of the smiles Brittany rarely saw during work hours. She was pretty sure she would brave the dangerous world of racquetball to see that smile again.


	10. Chapter 10

The natural musk of sweat mixed with antiperspirants, and a small tracing of disinfectant, whispered into Brittany's nose as she followed Kurt through the gym. Beyond the metallic clinks of weights and percussive thuds of feet on treadmills, Kurt's voice was barely registering on her consciousness.

How had she stumbled into this mess?

"It's not really that irregular for her to cut out of work to go to the gym," Kurt adjusted the Nike duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder as they walked further into the maze of weightlifters and runners. "In all honesty, she's been slacking this month, and with that photo shoot next week..."

Brittany blinked back into focus, "Are you kidding me? She's beautiful."

Kurt glanced over his shoulder at her, and Brittany had to look away to hide her blush. Way to be subtle.

"That much is indisputable," he continued with a small smirk, "but the camera adds ten pounds, honey."

"When's the shoot?" Brittany asked to change the subject. She knew the answer, she just needed to talk about something.

"Next week. There they are," he pointed through the glass wall of a yoga room.

Santana was on the ground doing situps with a medicine ball, touching it from the ground above her head to the hands of the man kneeling on her toes. Arms above her head, athletic shorts bunching around her upper thighs, and with each situp the cotton of her blue tee shirt shifted, flashing just the most sensual sliver of stomach.

Brittany couldn't breathe.

The man on her knees said something, and with the most adorable glare, Santana changed her motions, moving the medicine ball from one side of her hips to the other while keeping her back off the ground. Brittany could practically see a bead of sweat rolling down her furrowed brow. Her bottom lip between her teeth in a show of effort.

"Oh good, they're almost done," Kurt's voice brought Brittany back to real life.

"How long have they been working out?"

"Their sessions are usually around two hours," Kurt waved her along, "come on."

"Yeah," she cleared her throat and followed Kurt through the glass door.

The air was different in here, and Brittany wasn't sure if it was because she could hear Santana's labored breathing or maybe it was her own pulse that making her feel hotter.

"That's it Santana," the man encouraged her, "just ten more."

"I hate you so much," Santana mumbled through her teeth.

"You say that every week," he laughed, waving at Kurt and Brittany as they walked in, Santana had her eyes pressed closed and didn't notice them.

"I hate you more every week, that was ten," she dropped the medicine ball and fell ungraciously onto her back, pressing her palms to her eyes. She pulled one foot out from under his knee and pushed her heel into his chest. "Get off of me fatty."

"Love you too, Santana," he fell back laughing and patted her thigh sarcastically as he slid to his feet.

Brittany's eyes trained on the action, who was this man, allowed to touch Santana's bare thigh? And Santana, still yet to open her eyes and realized that there were two more people in the room, was pulling up her shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from her face.

Who was this man? For Santana to be comfortable enough to lay unencumbered next to him, her stomach and underside of her sports bra revealed casually. Was it because she was outside of Clockwork that her guarded demeanor towards men had changed? Or had this man somehow made it past Santana's defenses? Brittany wanted to know how he might have done that.

She would ponder that fact a little more, once Santana lowered her shirt and covered her glistening stomach. No camera could add ten pounds to that stomach. And was that a tattoo? She couldn't make out details, but that was definitely foreign ink on the right side of her ribcage.

"Right on time, as always," the man moved away from Santana, crossing off of the mats towards Kurt. He smiled politely at Brittany before kissing Kurt softy on the cheek.

"Only when I'm coming to see you," Kurt let him take the bag off of his shoulder. "How was your workout? Santana didn't complain too much, did she?"

They were cute, and obviously together. Maybe that was why Santana was so comfortable with him.

"Not any more than usual," he threw a smile over his shoulder at Santana.

Santana sat up abruptly when she heard Kurt's voice for the first time, knowing he was bringing Brittany. She pulled her shirt down promptly and Brittany tried to pretend she hadn't been watching. Instead she focused on the Kurt's introduction.

"Blaine, this is Brittany Pierce," he waved between them, "Brittany, this is my boyfriend and personal trainer extraordinaire, Blaine Anderson."

"It's nice to meet you Brittany," Blaine shook her hand, "Kurt's been talking about how nice it is to have someone to talk to at work all week."

"What? I'm not good enough for you?" Santana finally joined them, sending Brittany a private smile before pegging Kurt with a insulted look.

"Please," Kurt rolled his eyes, "your head might as well be a computer because the only thing running through it is circuits and wires."

"Right," Santana scoffed, "and who's guest starring on the next episode of that ridiculous doctor show you watch is just _so_ important."

"I'll have you know that—"

Kurt was cut off graciously by Blaine, "You girls still playing some ball? I have a court reserved."

Santana glanced at Brittany, asking with her eyes. Brittany nodded lightly, "I'm game if you are, I know you just got done working out."

Santana's lips quirked into a grin around her water bottle, she lowered it and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, "I'll consider this a warmup."

Brittany's stomach flipped.

Santana took the rackets and a cylinder of black balls from the bag Kurt had brought, "You guys going to be staying here?"

"Yeah," Blaine nodded, sending a smile to Kurt, "I'm up for a little yoga. You're in court number three."

"My favorite," Santana smiled. "Thanks, Blaine."

"I'll come and get you when we're done," Kurt waved the girls out of the room and joined his boyfriend on the mats. Brittany followed Santana out of the yoga room and down another flanking hallway.

"You have a personal trainer?" Brittany asked to keep her mind focused on other things besides Santana in those shorts. Instead she read the back of her shirt, a large bold print of her Alma Mater, _Berkeley._

"It was the companies idea," Santana rolled her eyes, "have to make sure their poster girl looks model material."

"That's ridiculous," Brittany played idly with the racket Santana had handed her, "I bet you could sit on a couch for the rest of your life, eating nothing but bread, and still be just as pretty."

Santana paused at a thick door, glancing back at Brittany with a shy blush, "I'm sure I'd turn into a whale within the first week... but thanks Brittany."

She pushed through the door and held it open for the blonde. Brittany walked in a little apprehensively.

"Why is this your favorite court?" Brittany asked, The room she was standing in was a neat rectangle without any windows and bright red lines on the farthest wall and floor.

The door swung closed with an ominous thud. Brittany continued to study the room around her as Santana's footfalls echoed behind her, coming closer. She felt her pulse flutter at the sound, she could even feel her presence getting closer.

"The back wall in the others are made of glass, so people can watch you play," Santana answered from somewhere behind her. Santana appeared at her shoulder, "It kinds of creeps me out."

"Goldfish syndrome," Brittany nodded solemnly.

Santana eyed her for a moment before she realized she was being teased, "Shut up."

"I'm sorry," Brittany smiled, "really I'm glad because I don't want anyone seeing me embarrass myself."

"Are you sure you still want to play?"

"As long as you go easy on me," Brittany watched Santana bounce the ball on her racket a few times. "Something tells me you can be pretty competitive."

A quizzical smile on her face, "Why would you think that?"

"A few things," she shrugged, "the way you talk about it, the fact that you own your own racket."

"I have my own because the ones you can borrow from the gym are crap," Santana rolled her shoulder, loosening up before lobbing a ball at the far wall with a controlled swing.

Brittany thought that was just an excuse. She was pretty sure it was in Santana's nature to want to be the best, she wouldn't work so hard to advance in a male dominated field if she wasn't a little competitive.

"You ready for this?" Santana caught the ball in her hand as it bounced back to her in an thoughtless manner. In this isolated room, the Latina was in her element. Brittany found her radiant.

"Just don't kill me," Brittany mumbled.

Santana sent her a sideways smirk, "Don't worry B, I'll play nice."

It was a first for Santana, to see Brittany even slightly frazzled. Nervous even. It gave her a little more confidence than she usually experienced around the blonde. She liked the feeling.

Santana gave her a brief lesson, explaining the rules and courtesies of the game. Pointing out a few tips and strategies for her beginner skill set. Like always, Santana explained everything with a gentle assurance that made Brittany comfortable with messing up. They played around for a little bit, taking turns in returning the ball to the far wall, and letting the other hit next smoothly.

"I think I like this game," Brittany admitted after she finally got the hang of hitting the ball from the back wall to the front in a good ricochet.

"That was a nice hit," Santana smiled, but if she had been playing at full capacity, she would have been able to return it easily.

"Did you play sports in high school?"

Santana blushed, already uncomfortable with this, "Yeah."

Brittany arched an eyebrow in prompt for her to continued, curious that Santana's posturing.

"I was a cheerleader, once... in a past life," she landed a good backhand and Brittany needed to move quickly to the left so she could return it. "It really doesn't even bear mentioning."

Brittany bit her lip, finding it a little ironic. She decided to ask, "Are you embarrassed by that?"

Santana hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was that obvious. Who wouldn't be embarrassed about that?

"Well kinda," she glanced at Brittany, "it was a long time ago... and really stupid if I think about it."

"Why is it silly?" Brittany asked softly, knowing there was more to it than just a high school sport. "A lot of people were cheerleaders, _in a past life,_" she teased. "I'm sure you worked really hard at it."

"I did," Santana agreed.

"Tell me why you think it's silly then," she was coaxing a little bit, hoping that she would play along.

Santana licked her lips, keeping her eyes on the ball coming her way. She needed to focus on keeping her swings soft. If she started getting to upset by the conversation, she might be liable to lose control of how hard she was hitting.

"I was... a bitch in high school, all the wrong things mattered to me. Popularity, status... boys."

Brittany heard a bitter scoff as she said it.

"I fell out of that mindset once I got to Berkeley. Cheerleading is everything I'm not anymore," she frowned, "well, besides when I'm the Face of Clockwork."

Brittany nodded, lobbing the ball at an awkward angle, making Santana shuffle to return it, "You never did tell me where you went to junior college."

Her eyes ran across the three triangles on Santana's chest. She didn't understand why a college tee shirt would have shapes on the front. She would have to look into that.

Santana laughed a little, a teasing smile barely visible on her features, "You'll just have to get better sources."

Blonde eyebrows quirked up, "That sounds like a challenge."

"Hardly," Santana snorted, "it's not like it's really that big a secret."

"I bet Quinn knows."

"You wont get anything out of her," Santana sent her a smile from across the court, "seriously, don't stress about it. Like I said, it's not important at all."

"Then why don't you just tell me?"

Santana gave her a half shrug and looked up from behind her bangs, "Now where's the fun in that?"

In that moment, having her words repeated back to her in that rascally tone... Brittany was sure Santana was flirting with her. She fought back a blush, or worse, a delighted grin. Brittany hoped her flustered brain wouldn't reach her mouth and she might say something she could regret.

She cleared her throat, "I suppose I'll just have to dig a little deeper."

* * *

><p>After Brittany was familiar enough with the feel of her racket and the play of the ball against the walls, Santana suggested that they play a real game. Brittany told her that her competitive side was showing and earned herself a pretty blush from the Latina.<p>

It started slowly, Brittany could tell that Santana was pulling her punches and that... bothered Brittany a little. She had to admit that she was a little competitive herself, and for Santana to beat her after a two hour long session with her personal trainer, now that would just be embarrassing.

So she tried really hard.

"You're pretty good at this," Santana commended, taking a moment to catch her breath in the serving box after a particularly good rally between them.

"You still got the point," Brittany was using the time to redo her hair.

"Had to work for it though."

Turns out, her trying really hard was enough to get Santana moving.

Santana tried to be discreet about looking at the tall, exquisitely shaped blonde, with her racket tucked between her legs and her arms above her head, tugging the material of her tank top tight across her chest.

Never in her life had she been more jealous of an inanimate object.

"What's the score?"

Santana's eyes dropped to her shoes before she met Brittany's eyes, because she hoped the detour would keep it from being so obvious that she had been staring at the blonde's legs.

"Six to four."

Brittany shook her head a determined look setting in her eyes. Straightening up and taking her racket back into her hand, "I bet you only win by three."

Santana laughed, a good honest laugh, and here echoing against the walls, surrounding her, Brittany thought it was beautiful.

When her laughter had subsided, she smirked, "Now who's competitive?"

"Loser buys dinner?"

Santana smiled at that, a lopsided grin that Brittany had rarely ever seen before. She hoped that it was just for her.

"You're on."

* * *

><p>The air was thick. She was sweating more than she would like to admit and she couldn't remember the last time time she had done anything that made her breathe this heavily. Brittany wiped her hand on her shorts and adjusted the grip on her racket.<p>

It was game point and Santana was ahead by four. She watched the Latina ready herself for the serve.

The amount of concentration on her face was adorable. She bounced the ball a few times before catching it and wiping the back her hand across her forehead. She was absolutely glistening. The blue cotton shirt she was wearing had few damp spots at her lower back.

Brittany didn't know sweat spots could be so attractive.

Santana served and Brittany banked right to return it. They rallied back and forth, both of them giving their very best effort. Brittany knew she had lost before it even happened. The ball had bounced into the perfect position, her back swing was strong and confident, the look in her eye was positively beaming. Brittany watched her strike the ball low into the far corner and there was no way she could have returned it.

"Yeah!" Santana lifted her racket into the air, spinning on her toes. "Kill shot."

Brittany laughed, tucking her racket under her arm so she could grace the Latina with a small round of applause. She had lost her bet, but the elated expression on Santana's face made up for it.

After her brief outburst, Santana fidgeted with her racket, trying in vain to contain her excitement over winning a good game.

"Congratulations Santana," Brittany smiled kindly, gravitating over towards the brunette. "I believe you won the bet."

Santana hesitated, "You don't really need to—"

"I want to," Brittany cut her off before she could take back their dinner agreement. "Besides, I think I should thank you for showing me such a good time."

Santana's eyes skated around the court, her breathing finally evening out, "So you had fun?"

She asked it with a small voice, seeking Brittany's approval, hoping she hadn't wasted the girls time. Questioning if Brittany might have enjoyed spending time with her.

"I had a blast Santana," Brittany assured her with an honest grin. "I haven't had this much fun in a really long time."

Santana bit her lip at that, a flash of pride crossing over her features, "You played really well for your first time."

"I'm sure it's because you were going easy on me," Brittany nudged her shoulder with the racket and Santana flushed. She wouldn't admit how easy she went on Brittany.

"Here, give me a second," she pulled her left arm across her chest to stretch, "then we'll go grab some water and find the boys."

"How long have you known Blaine?"

Santana glanced up at the blonde, counting the months in her head, "A few months, maybe six?"

"How did you meet him?"

Santana pulled her arm behind her head, stretching a different group of muscles, oblivious to the way her shirt was riding up. Brittany sure noticed though.

She licked her lips, forcing herself to finish her conversation, "Through Kurt?"

"Yeah," Santana walked over to the wall, placing her propping her toes up to stretch her calf. "I needed a replacement after Tracy moved to Chicago."

"Did you know he was dating with Kurt before you hired him?"

"Of course."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"That's you job right?" Santana joked, back in off of the wall to face the blonde.

"Not about this," Brittany fingered the webbing of her racket, "this is kind of personal."

Santana spun her racket in her hand. Suddenly the room seemed a lot smaller, "Go for it."

Brittany hesitated for just a moment, "Why are you more comfortable with Kurt and Blaine, than the men at Clockwork?"

Santana had been in studying the woman in front of her, eyes narrowing in a subtle perceptive expression. She wasn't sure where Brittany was going with this.

"Surely you've noticed that all the men at Clockwork are arrogant pricks."

"I wouldn't say Mike and Sam fit that category," Brittany stepped closer to the Santana.

"Well, no," she had to admit that, "but they're just two guys in the whole company."

"You're telling me you think there are only two decent guys in the whole company?" Brittany took another step closer to the woman.

Santana frowned, if she agreed with that it would make her sound ignorant.

"They're two of the few people that have proven themselves to me. They... Mike especially, respects my opinions, he knows that I deserve my position."

"Yet you still hold them at a arms length," Brittany pressed on,taking another step, "even last week, when Mike reached across you in the lab to grab his notebook..."

Santana remembered, she had gone completely stiff, unbreathing, and Brittany had been the only one that had noticed her indiscretion.

"What are you really asking, Brittany?" Santana crossed her arms over her chest defensively, leaning back on the wall to look more casual than she felt.

"If I were a man," Brittany coaxed, "would you let me stand this close to you?"

Santana finally realized the space between their sneakers, their toes were less than a foot away from each other. How could she have so easily slipped into Santana's personal space. Santana knew the answer was no, not with her back against the wall like this, not with the only door on the opposite side of the room.

"Are you uncomfortable around men?"

"Excuse me?" Santana rebuffed, but Brittany only watched her with imploring eyes, "Kurt and Blaine are friends of mine."

"Straight men, Santana."

Santana's eyes fell to the floor. Her tongue caught in her throat and her heart thudding in her ears. She felt like someone had just read her diary and was reading it allowed to the class. She could feel the blood rush to her face.

"It's just that, you seemed so relaxed with Blaine," Brittany kept her eyes on Santana, wanting to catch all the aspects of the reaction to her words, "physically, I mean. I don't think you stand within five feet of the men at Clockwork."

"I'm not—" Santana shook her head not sure what she was supposed to say. "I um... this _is_ really personal, Brittany."

"I'm sorry, I just want to know if it's a men thing, or a men at Clockwork thing?" Brittany closed the distance between them, spinning on her heel so she could lean up against the wall next to the shorter woman. She nudged their elbows together lightly, "I'm not finding fault in you Santana, I'm just trying to understand."

"It's not really something I understand," Santana muttered, but now that Brittany wasn't directly in front of her, trapping her against a wall with her probing eyes, she could think a little easier.

Brittany waited patiently, because it looked like Santana was trying to figure it out.

"If I had to call it something," Santana sighed a little frustratedly, "and to put it in your terms. It's defiantly a men at Clockwork thing, but I wouldn't limit it to the men at Clockwork."

Santana kind of wanted to talk about it. She didn't talk about stuff like this with Quinn, because Quinn had already accepted the terms of her existence. The only problem was if Brittany takes all of this the wrong way.

Aversion to men wasn't exactly her best personality trait.

"It's not that big of a deal," Santana took a deep breath, trying to get her head straight. "I go to work, I work, I go home. I don't need to be best friends with everyone I work with and I certainly don't need to give those assholes any more leverage over me by letting them know too much."

There was that attitude again, the _they're all out to get me_ motto that Santana seemed to live by.

"Hm," Brittany made a small understanding noise, because she didn't think Santana wanted to here her opinion on the matter. "When did it start?"

"I don't know, years ago."

"Before or after junior college?"

A small hitch of breath was the answer Brittany needed to know. Santana's eyes were guarded, knowing she had given herself away.

Surprisingly, instead of another question, Brittany just smiled and said, "I think I need to teach you something."

"Yeah?" Santana glanced over at the blonde still a little apprehensive. "Like what?"

"I don't know anything," Brittany laughed lightly, "you've been teaching me so many things, like about computers and racquetball..."

"I'm sorry," Santana blushed, thankful that she was changing the topic, "I guess it's just nice to have someone that'll, you know, actually listen. It's kind of addictive."

Brittany pushed off the wall and offered her hand to Santana, "I'll have to find something to return the favor."

Santana glanced at the hand in front of her, then back up to Brittany's kind eyes, the barest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She finally obliged, letting Brittany pull her off the wall.

* * *

><p>"I need to start working out again," Brittany sighed as they sat on a bench in near the yoga rooms, Kurt and Blaine were just finishing up.<p>

"You don't?" Santana asked in an amused surprise. "After keeping up with me in racquetball, and with a figure like that, I was sure you were a closet gym bug."

"Keeping up?" Brittany laughed, blood rushing to her cheeks at Santana's compliment. "You beat me by five."

Santana shrugged, "It was your first time playing, you're supposed to lose, and don't tell Blaine, but you got me breathing harder than he did."

Brittany just shook her head, wishing she could get Santana breathing hard in the way she wanted to.

"Hey Santana," she asked in a quiet voice, "do you know what you're going to be doing for your photo shoot coming up?"

"I um..." she licked her lips, reeling for a memory she had brushed off weeks ago. "I think it's supposed to be something classy, the theme we're going for this next season is something more refined."

"I've been meaning to ask you if you didn't want me to go."

Santana nearly dropped her water bottle, "What?"

"It's just that I know they're not the most comfortable things for you," Brittany shrugged, "I wouldn't want to make it any worse by having one more set of eyes there."

Santana took a sip of water to buy herself some time before answering, "No, you should come. Honestly, Brittany, I won't mind. Besides, it will give Kurt someone to talk to, I'm normally too busy, or too aggravated to be good company anyway."

"Where do you do your photo shoots?" Brittany leaned back against the wall behind them.

"My friend Tina has a studio just outside the city," Santana explained, "we do all of the sets out there."

"You work with Tina often?" Brittany had heard the name a few times around the office, and it surprised her that Santana would address her as a friend.

Santana laughed, finding Brittany's question funny, "Yes, I do."

Brittany wasn't sure what it was about her answer that rubbed her the wrong way. The ironic tone, the humor Santana found in the question, or maybe the reappearance of that lopsided grin as she thought of this Tina person.

The boys joined them in the hallway before Brittany could think any farther into it.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Thank you, so much, for the positive response to the last chapter. The reviews, alerts, and PMs have all been really awesome. I have to be a debbie downer and say that my updates might not be as quick as they have been, my professional life is really taking off and I have vague priories that shouldn't include fan fiction, but do. So I hope to not keep you waiting.

— Gorshenin.

* * *

><p>He watched her stare, her eyes inquisitive, her brow knitted. A pen was being twirled around her fingers methodically. She was thinking hard about something. Kurt could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Thinking.<p>

"What are you looking at?" he asked when she sighed again.

She had been sighing all day, small puffs of breath escaping from her lips as she looked around and... didn't find Brittany. The journalist was spending this Friday at her office, making a report to her editor-in-chief about her progress and upcoming events. Santana, in short, had been pouting all day.

Santana glanced at him, blinking a few times because she had honestly forgotten he was even in the room. Her eyes slid back to her laptop and her mouth opened, she looked genuinely confused.

"Nothing."

"Don't play games with me," he huffed, setting his phone to the side to focus entirely on the woman in front of her. "You've been staring at your computer for the past twenty minutes and haven't touched your mouse once. Obviously something is pretty interesting."

"I..." she grudgingly shifted forward in her seat, he had a point, "I don't know what this means."

"What?"

She wiggled her mouse around, pulling the image onto one of the large LCD screens. It was a Facebook page, the blue font spelling out, _Brittany S. Pierce._

"It's Brittany's Facebook," Kurt almost laughed, Santana was such a creeper. "Request her as a friend, it's not that hard."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Santana rolled her eyes and manipulated the image so the profile picture was magnified. "It's her profile picture."

Kurt felt even more confused, and almost worried about the Latina, had she been working too hard? Did she need a day off?

Santana groaned when it was obvious Kurt didn't understand, "That's my foot."

Kurt looked back to the photo, it was of two feet, one black Nike with red laces attached to a tan shin, and the other a white and blue Adidas on a leg of a significantly paler complexion.

"Is that you and Brittany at the gym?" he asked finally realizing.

"Yeah," Santana looked at the picture again, "she must have taken it with her phone when we were on the bench outside the yoga rooms."

Kurt looked back to Santana who was engrossed in analyzing the photo, "I still don't see the problem."

"That's _my_ foot," she mumbled to herself, unsure why Kurt didn't get how important this was. "_She_ put up a photo of _us_, as her _profile picture."_

Kurt stared.

"That doesn't seem significant to you at all?" she asked in a controlled voice, she was being forcefully objective. She wouldn't put too much stock into this before she had a second opinion.

He thought about it, and suddenly it dawned on him, an excited light coming into his eyes, "You don't think..."

"I really don't know," Santana mumbled, she shouldn't even be thinking about it.

Kurt thought back to the careless comments Brittany let slip in the gym, "It might be significant."

Santana eyed him but her voice was too cautious to be taken harshly, "Don't fuck with me Kurt."

"I'm being serious Santana," he stood from the couch and walked over to her desk, sliding himself up on the corner. "I think our little journalist might be interested in more than a good story."

"She just broke up with her boyfriend, like, not even three weeks ago."

Kurt made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "You don't even know how long they had been dating, and honestly, if she's not gushing about it to everyone around her, she probably not that choked up about it."

"She wasn't..." Santana admitted, fingering the keys of her keyboard.

"You like her," Kurt coaxed softly, giving her shoulder a little shove.

"I _can't_ like her."

Kurt huffed, "Don't pull that _Clockwork has me in the closet_ crap with me."

Santana pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, "You know they would throw a fit if it got around the office."

She shouldn't even be considering the possibility. What was she supposed to say?

"_Hey Brittany, I've made such a big deal about keeping you comfortable at Clockwork just so I can be the one that crosses the professional line by coming onto you?"_

Like that wouldn't make her the biggest hypocrite in the entire world.

"That doesn't mean you should let them control one more aspect of your life, Santana."

She could hear the small frown in his voice.

"They take so much from you..." he continued quietly, "to the point where I can barely stand to sit by and watch, but you do everything they ask with such a irrefutable dignity, because you know you're better than this Santana. You know you're better than a poster girl, and you're damn sure better than letting them take a genuine chance at happiness away from you."

Santana swallowed the lump in her throat, glad that she had already been covering her eyes so she could keep the tears at bay.

"We don't even really know if she's really interested," she whispered so her voice wouldn't sound so broken. "It sounds great and all Kurt, but it's just wishful thinking."

He was quiet for a while, "I don't believe that."

Santana let out a sarcastic laugh, "You always have been a hopeless romantic."

"Romantic, yes," he chuckled lightly, "but hopeless? No, I don't think so. I've seen the way she looks at you."

Santana didn't want to ask but she had to, "What do you mean?"

"She was basically drooling over you at the gym while we were waiting for you and Blaine to finish up."

"One more person interested in my body."

"Somehow I doubt she would work this hard to integrate herself into your life on the off chance that she might be able to stare at your abs."

Santana flushed, she knew it was true. She remembered the comment Brittany made after their first interview.

"_I can tell that you know what you're talking about."_

To this day, it warmed Santana's heart and made her giddy in a way she hadn't felt since she was a teenager.

Santana sat up, brushing the ghost of a tear out of her eye.

"That's just it though," she didn't want to admit that this was a factor, but it was, "she's here to work. I don't want to jeopardize this opportunity for something we both might regret."

Kurt gave her a frustrated sigh, "You're just looking for excuses now."

"Her _career_ isn't an excuse to me," Santana said honestly, "she's looking out for mine, I can at least return the favor."

"Santana, don't be the noble martyr here," he jumped of her desk and walked over to Brittany's desk, running his finger along the edge. "There's no harm in just... having some fun? Maybe open up a bit?"

Santana bit her cheek, she could do that.

"Surely you remember how to flirt," Kurt teased. "Just in case I'll schedule you for a refresher course."

Santana smirked, "Don't bother, I bet there's an App for that."

Kurt laughed, rolling his eyes back up to the photo. "I must say, your calves look great together."

Despite how ridiculous that sounded, Santana flushed all the same, and couldn't help but agreeing to herself.

* * *

><p>Brittany found herself smiling at the familiar atmosphere of <em>The Lead's<em> cooperate building. She greeted and waved to the friendly faces she hadn't seen in a while. Before Clockwork, Brittany used to see these people on a daily basis. Now, her professional life consisted of one woman, and one very large corporation holding her hostage in it's own self-image.

"My goodness, if it isn't Miss Journalist herself."

Brittany turned to the voice addressing her as she neared her cubical.

"Good morning, Will."

She smiled politely as she made it to her cubical and looked around for the things she needed to pick up before she stopped by Rachel's office. She heard a shuffle behind her, and sure enough, when she turned around he was leaning on the wall of her cubical, watching her work with that... odd smile on his face.

Brittany paused to meet his eyes for a moment, her things halfway into her bag, when he didn't speak right away she asked, "Um... can I help you with something?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm really proud of you, Brittany," he smoothed one hand over his vest.

"Thanks," she slipped everything she needed into her tote and eased herself out of the cubical, making sure to keep a few feet of space between them. "Have a good day."

"You too Brittany."

She had never been a fan of that man, but she didn't think that he had ever made her physically uncomfortable before. Maybe she was spending too much time soaking in Santana's cautious influence. She shook it off, if anything else, she could learn a thing or two from Santana about keeping her guard up. Brittany would never assume the worst of people, but that didn't mean she couldn't be ready for it.

Rachel's office door was open when she got to it and she was waved in promptly. Together they went over Brittany's progress so far and her plans for the next few weeks.

"The next big event is the photo shoot this week," Brittany explained as Rachel looked over her notes. "It's with one of Santana's favorite photographers..." she took a small breath, "someone she requests by name."

"Anything special about him?" Rachel asked over the notes.

"Besides the fact that she's a woman?" Brittany joked to herself. "I get the feeling that they might be friends... on some level."

She hoped they were just friends.

"Is Santana some sort of a feminist?" Rachel laughed.

Brittany glanced at her hands, pinching her fingers together, there was something more to it than just preferring female company, but is wasn't her place to tell Rachel any of that.

"You could say that," she offered vaguely and Rachel knew not to question it.

"I like them," Rachel changed the subject a little, "her and Quinn."

"More so Quinn, right?" Brittany couldn't help but ask, a teasing smile on her face.

Rachel was quick to blush, biting her lip, "Yes. More so Quinn... we've been talking, a little."

Brittany smiled, but wasn't surprised, "What?"

"Just a few calls here and there..." she glanced at the cellphone on her desk. "Usually under some convoluted pretense of business, because she can't just admit that she wants to call to talk about nothing."

Brittany laughed, "According to Santana she hasn't been interested in women since she was in college."

"How very cliche," Rachel rolled her eyes with a grin. "That's a start at least."

"I think she's interested," Brittany shrugged, "you guys totally hit it off at dinner."

Rachel was already asking the question Brittany knew was coming, "Speaking of, were you just admiring the view or are you actually into Santana Lopez?"

Brittany blushed at the mention of her indiscretion, "It is a um... pretty nice view."

"Britt!" Rachel laughed, shaking her head incredulously. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know, it's kind of new?" she huffed, feeling like she was being scalded by her older sister, "she was into me first."

Rachel eyebrows rose, "Did she tell you that?"

"No," Brittany wished that was the case, "she's too busy trying to make me feel comfortable at Clockwork to talk about her feelings, besides... she would never admit it."

"Why not?"

"There's a lot of reasons," Brittany didn't even know where to start. "I don't think she's really out. She's so... wrapped up in the Clockwork image thing to risk something that would make it harder for her."

"Why don't you say something?"

"Right, because Santana _loves_ when her coworkers hit on her," Brittany rolled her eyes, a small disappointment seeping into her chest.

That was the last thing Brittany wanted to be, just one more person looking to hook up with the Face of Clockwork. She's worked too hard to try to get Santana to be comfortable around her, she wasn't about to make it seem like it was all a ruse to get close enough to take advantage.

This seemed kind of hopeless.

"Maybe it's for the better," Rachel sighed quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Rachel bit her lip, "_logistically speaking_, I'm not sure it would be the most professional thing in the entire world to become romantically involved with the subject of your first feature as a journalist."

Brittany's heart sank even further, with stale words she replied, "You're right."

"As your boss, it's my job to tell you that," Rachel frowned at the situation, "but as your friend... if something... say might have happened? And there was no substantial evidence to make a valid claim to that fact?" Rachel waved her hands in an aloof manner. "Then how am I to take those allegations seriously."

Brittany chuckled dryly, "Thanks Rachel..."

"But on the other side of that coin," Rachel hated bringing this up, "that contract we signed made it pretty clear that any negative publicity could open us up to a lot of trouble... even a lawsuit if they wanted to be jerks about it."

Brittany knew that those odds were pretty high.

"I'm not going to let that happen to your company," she gave Rachel an honest look, "you've been too good to me to let that happen."

"Brittany," Rachel knew her friend was a little upset about it, "I'm just putting out the worst case scenario, because that's what we have to do to make sure we understand the big picture. Honestly, I want you to see if you can get to know her a little better, and who knows? The contract is up as soon as the feature is published, remember that."

Brittany licked her lips, thinking about it.

"It could give you a perfect amount of time to prove to Santana that you can respect her," she smirked a little, "and want her body at the same time."

* * *

><p>Brittany sat on a cold metal bench, in the corner of some electronic store, just looking.<p>

_Computer Power User, Maximum PC, Smart Computing, PC World Magazine._

There was such a selection of magazines in front of her. She glanced over the covers, she didn't know that there was this big a literary market for electronics, computers, and technology. Not many had people on them. Most had computer towers gracing the cover, or graphics from a game, or company logo. She saw Clockwork's logo on more than one. She couldn't find the Orbit logo nearly as often.

She wanted to smile at that.

There were a few, one to three months old, but still kept in the back of the racks, with Santana's image on cover. Brittany wasn't above digging for them. She pulled out what looked to be the latest spread and flipped through the pages. Glancing over the articles, figuring out just how many pages were devoted to Clockwork's Head of IT.

Santana was truly... very pretty. She was absolutely radiant on the glossy pages. Brittany thought it was ridiculous that men wanted her to pose in Maxim when these photos would have been enough for her.

Brittany sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Rachel had warned her not to get too attached too soon. She couldn't blow this feature because she wanted to start lusting over her subject... the subject that hated people lusting after her. It was just her luck.

This weekend couldn't of come at a better time. She needed some space to get her walls back up, so she could keep her professional distance. Brittany was sure that if she didn't get her head on right, she would spend the next week making sure that Santana's body looked as good in real life as it did in this picture.

Even if Santana wouldn't be caught dead with that many buttons of her blouse undone in the office. A sliver of bronze flesh accented by a white button down.

It was such a tease.

Brittany felt something in her core start to stir. She wanted to unbutton the last of Santana's blouse and...

"What are you doing?"

Brittany's entire body quaked with the irrational sense that her mother had caught her looking at porn. She could feel her face start to redden even before she pulled the magazine away from her eyes so she could figure out who was talking to her, and why what she was reading was any of their business.

Her stomach bottomed out when it was Santana standing in front of her. Her eyes were darkly curious, shifting from Brittany's face to the magazine in her hand. Santana shifted on her feet, halfway between moving forward to rip the magazine out of the blonde's hands and asking her opinion of it. The moment of hesitation was all Brittany needed to regain her composer. Raising to her feet and faking some confidence, she stepped closer to the brunette, the magazine tucked safely under her arm.

Out of sight, out of mind. Or she hoped.

"Santana," she smiled, that smile that she knew made Santana blush, the flirty one.

She needed to get Santana flustered and blushing so she wouldn't figure out why Brittany had been staring so closely at a picture of her. It was an underhanded tactic, but Brittany needed to keep her secret safe for now, "What are you doing here?"

Santana blinked slowly up at the blonde, the initial panic at seeing Brittany studying her picture was fading a little. Now her heart was beating for an entirely different reason, she could smell Brittany's perfume... and that smile... it made Santana feel like she had been waiting in the electronics store just in hopes that she showed up. Irrational, she knew, but she still felt that way.

Was she misinterpreting that smile? Her tone? Was Kurt right? Could Brittany really be interested in her?

"I'm um... getting a new controller," she held up the case shyly, as if she needed proof, "the trigger has been sticking on mine and I was planing on..." she flushed as she admitted, "playing all day today."

"Is that something else you do for fun?" Brittany asked with a teasing tone, finding it endearing that Santana was a little embarrassed by the hobby, "play video games?"

"_I know,_" she groaned, rolling her eyes at herself, "I'm a walking stereotype, but I find it... almost therapeutic."

"So, are you into those angry games that's all about killing people?"

The way Santana's eyes found her shoes answered her question.

"Maybe... but what about you," Santana's eyes glanced at the magazine under her arm and back to Brittany, wanting an explanation. "What's with the magazine, Brittany?"

Brittany had never been so nervous, under the studious gaze of Santana's dark eyes, she wanted nothing more than to tell the truth, that she had been looking for some way of being close to the Latina this weekend. She had thought just looking at pictures of Santana would calm the subtle craving she felt when they were apart.

"With the photo shoot next week," Brittany shrugged like it was no big deal, but the blush on her face was tracing itself down her neck, "I wanted to see a few of the others, to compare. You know, just doing some research."

"Huh," Santana nodded slowly. She wanted to feel betrayed that Brittany was sitting here actively looking through the very things that made her feel like a piece of meat...

But instead she was thinking to herself about what Kurt had told her, maybe there was something between them? Santana asked herself what she really wanted. It was undeniable that she wanted to open up... let Brittany in on a different level than just as a journalist that happened to be shadowing her.

She wanted, in the very least, to be her friend. Maybe things would turn out for the better, and maybe they wouldn't progress any father than a professional interaction... but Santana wasn't going to let this woman, the one that can make her feel this way, walk away so easily.

"If I told you that..." she wasn't sure she should do this, "I have copies of every magazine they've ever put me in..."

Santana hoped it didn't come across nearly as narcissistic as it sounded. She watched Brittany's eyes light up curiously.

"Quinn said—"

"Quinn doesn't know," Santana mumbled, playing with the package in her hand. "I keep them locked away in my room."

"Why?" Brittany wondered what else Santana kept from Quinn.

Santana shrugged, "It's just something I do. I guess what I'm trying to say—or ask is, I'm going to be hanging out on my couch all day, and if you wanted to look through them, you're more than welcome to come over and we could like... talk about how much I hated each one."

Brittany's stomach fluttered at the very idea of spending a day together.

"I would actually really enjoy that Santana," Brittany smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She held up the magazine playfully, "Is it safe to assume you have a copy of this?"

"Yeah," Santana chuckled, taking it from Brittany and setting it back on the rack so the cover wasn't showing, "I do."

So much for keeping her space.

"Is there anything else you needed from the store or..." Brittany looked around.

"Let me text Quinn quick, to see if she needs anything," Santana stuck her controller under her arm and pulled out her phone.

They started moving away from the magazine racks together, naturally falling into sync. Santana had a short conversation with her friend, while Brittany followed her lead through the store. When Santana hung up she turned to Brittany, "I need to find something, it wont take to long."

"I'm not in a rush," Brittany replied honestly, except at she couldn't wait to get back to Santana's home and look at photos of her.

"Thanks," Santana glanced around trying to figure out which direction to go.

"Quinn's out of town?" Brittany asked after hearing Santana ask about a hotel.

"Yeah," she nodded, pointing off to the left and Brittany followed her directions when they came to the end of the aisle. "Clockwork sent her up to a media relations conference. She was all excited about it."

"That sounds kind of exciting."

"A real blast if you ask me," Santana agreed sarcastically, and Brittany smiled at her.

"What are we looking for?" Brittany asked as they made their way into the DVD section.

"Some movie called _Funny Girl._"

The burst of laughter that pooled out of Brittany made Santana stop in her tracks just to watch. Brittany seemed grateful she could catch her breath. Santana felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards. Her laughter was contagious, even if she had no idea what was so funny.

"I'm sorry," she put a hand up and clutched her side as another fit of giggles sprang up, "it's just that, _Funny Girl_ is Rachel's favorite movie."

Santana's brows rose, "Quinn's getting it for Rachel?"

"For Rachel, as in a gift? I doubt it," Brittany waved off the idea, "because if I know Rachel, I'm sure she's already told Quinn about her crazy collection of Barbra Streisand, so if anything, Quinn wants to watch it so she can talk about it with Rachel."

"Oh," Santana thought about it for a second, "why doesn't Rachel... invite Quinn over so they could watch it together, or whatever?"

Brittany studied Santana for a second, "Like a date?"

Santana shuffled her feet, "I don't know, maybe?"

"Do you think Quinn might be interested in Rachel?"

Santana blushed, because the parallels between Quinn and Rachel, and herself with Brittany, weren't lost on her. And the way Brittany asked that question, where she could read between the lines and almost apply it to themselves? It made her warm all over.

"Yeah," her voice dropped to a whisper and her eyes watched Brittany's from under her bangs, "I think she might be."

Brittany's eyes skated south, just a flicker disguised as a blink, towards Santana's lips, "I hope she is."

The echo of longing made Santana so sure Brittany wasn't talking about Quinn. They watched each other breathe for a moment, lost in the moment of implied confessions. A customer walking between them broke the staring contest and both women found their shoes infinitely more interesting than ever before.

Brittany was the first to recover, clearing her throat lightly to catch Santana's eyes. "You want to look for that movie?"

"Yes," Santana took the out, turning on her heel to continue towards her goal, Brittany matched her steps easily.

Brittany was the one to find the _Funny Girl_/_Funny Lady_ two pack box set, because she knew what section it would most likely be in and Santana eyed it skeptically but didn't make a comment. She didn't want to insult Rachel, or Brittany in the off chance that she was a fan of that movie too. They didn't talk much as they headed to the register, and Santana squirmed under the cashier's blatant stare.

"Have I seen you before?" he asked as he rang up her total.

"Doubtful," Santana replied shortly and Brittany chuckled somewhere off to her side. She took her bag and glared at the blonde as she walked up to her. "That's not funny, you know."

"No," Brittany conceded with a playful smile on her face, "not funny. Not at all."

Santana felt her cheeks redden and she bit her lip to keep from returning Brittany's grin, "Your sarcasm isn't nearly as subtle as you think it is."

Brittany laughed openly at that.

"No probably not," she watched Santana brush her dark bangs out of her face, her blue eyes sliding down her jawline to her lips. Santana looked away before Brittany could realize she caught her staring. "I've never been good at being subtle."

She had to agree with that statement.


	12. Chapter 12

Brittany sat quietly on the couch in the living room of the Lopez-Fabray household. She had been impressed the first time she arrived, interested the second, and now she was inquisitive. She loved the dark wood furniture and the soft gray accents. It seemed like such a perfect blend of Santana and Quinn's personalities.

She was thankful for this moment alone, so she could try to stifle the bubbling urge to flirt constantly with the brunette. Brittany really wasn't keeping her professional boundaries up. She knew she couldn't push to fast or she might scare Santana off... and she really had to handle this situation well.

Santana shuffled into the room carrying a box.

"I would really appreciate it if you didn't tell Quinn about this," Santana huffed as she heaved a cardboard box onto the coffee table. Brittany looked up from the box to meet Santana's eyes, she found a small embarrassment mixed with a quiet reserve in them. She was taking a step here and Brittany knew it.

"Your secret stash is safe with me," Brittany smiled and waited, she wouldn't be the one that opened the box, that was Santana's right.

Santana rolled her eyes with a smile, "You make it sound like porn."

She sat down on the couch next to the journalist and took off the cover of the box, setting it under the coffee table. Brittany watched her pull out the first magazine, a copy of _The Lead_.

"The newest are on this side," she explained, "it gets older as you go back."

"Is that the copy I brought you and Quinn?" Brittany's heart clenched at the idea that Santana had saved her work.

"No, Quinn has that somewhere around the house," Santana blushed a little, "I always buy my own. Seeing it there on the rack... it's kind of like an accomplishment, even if I don't really care for the product."

"Can I?" Brittany gestured to the box and Santana nodded.

"Knock yourself out," she set the magazine aside and picked up the TV remote.

Brittany pulled the next to latest magazine and watched Santana start up her game, setting up her new wireless controller, and logging on under the username, _ForwardSlashSnixx_.

The opening screen of the game was familiar to Brittany. She remembered spending weekends sitting on a couch watching Artie play the same game. Santana even had one of those headsets that let you talk to the other players. It sat on the coffee table, unused.

"How long had you been working at Clockwork before you started doing the advertising?"

"I had _just_ made department head before St. James got his hands on me," Santana scoffed, "which did wonders for my reputation, let me tell you."

"People thought that it was a inside deal you worked out?" Brittany prodded.

"They thought I was sleeping with him," Santana's nose crinkled in disgust, "I really hate that man."

"He didn't seem very pleasant in the meeting with marketing," Brittany agreed, "I was glad to get out of there when it was over."

"I swear, the stench of pompous dickhead just seeps from his pores."

Brittany shook her head, looking at the screen where Santana's character was running around with a gun.

"Don't tell anyone in the office, but Quinn is angling for his job."

"Really?" that surprised Brittany.

"Yeah, that's why she's been requesting to go to these conferences," she shrugged, shifting lower on the couch and propping her feet up. "She already works so closely to the marketing department because of my situation, people hardly know her real position anyway."

"I bet that works in her favor," Brittany opened another magazine. "That would be great for you if she could pull that off."

Santana sighed, knowing it was a long shot, "Jesse St. James isn't the type to let things sneak up on him. He plays dirty. He has dirt on everyone and loves to use it to his advantage."

Brittany understood her implication. Jesse had something on Santana. She didn't question it, looking back to the magazine in her hands.

She had, of course, seen Santana's cover shots in the woman's office, and in her initial research into her role at Clockwork, but there was just something authentic about holding one of them in her hands. Being able to flip through the pages, and read the sorry excuses for interviews.

No wonder Santana was weary of the media, these articles were clearly more interested in the photos than the three, maybe four, lines of information quoted from Santana about the products. Most of the information was generic blurbs about equipment stats and upgrades supplied from the company. Brittany continued to pull issues out of the box and study the articles. She noticed the products and how Santana was posed with them.

She classified Santana's wardrobe options as sensually professional.

"Kurt picks your wardrobe right?"

"If we can swing it," Santana answered, her eyes never leaving the game, "a lot of the time he meets with the people setting it up and approves of the outfits or whatever, I'm rarely involved until I show up on set."

"By choice?"

Santana nodded, "I don't want to know anything about it, and when I get there I don't want to do anything but get it over with. Get in, get done, get out."

"How long do they usually last?"

"Hours," Santana groaned, "every little thing is an event."

Brittany chuckled at her, continuing through the magazines, she started putting aside her favorites. Pictures that more more artsy than sexual.

Santana continued to play her first person shooter, watching Brittany out of the corner of her eye. She didn't miss the way Brittany was biting her bottom lip, taking absolute care of Santana's work. When her eyes strayed too long, her character payed the price.

"God, who is this guy?" Santana smiled to herself as her character was killed off.

It was an odd reaction for Brittany, who was used to Artie swearing loudly and getting more and more frustrated as every time his character died. If anything, Santana was amused by it. She reached onto the coffee table for the headset and turned it on, setting it around her neck so she could listen to the chatter of the other players.

Brittany wondered why she wasn't partaking in the trash talk like everyone else was. She listened to the voices, just barely able to make out what they were saying.

"_Come on Evans, get to the sniper point in the warehouse. I need cover before I can get to Israel's strong hold."_

"Evans," Santana smirked pleasantly surprised, finally hearing the name she needed to correlate to the player. She moved her player around the field, ducking into an abandoned warehouse to find her target, grinning when she shot him from behind.

_"Mike, I just got taken out by that Snixx lurker."_

_"Yeah, he's pretty good at this."_

"Mike?" she eyed the Latina next to her, "as in Mike Chang? Santana, are you playing with the guys from Clockwork?"

Santana shut off the headset and sent Brittany a sly look, "Yeah, and Evans has killed me three times already."

"But..." Brittany glanced from the headset that Santana never spoke into, to the mischievous look in the brunettes eyes, waiting for Brittany to figure it out, "they don't know it's you?"

Santana shook her head, "Nah, they think Snixx is some guy down in the human resources department. I hear the boys talk about it all the time."

"You're not going to tell them the truth?"

Santana looked baffled at the very idea, "No of course not. Killing them anonymously is like, the best revenge for annoying the crap out of me all week."

"It wouldn't be more satisfying if they knew it was you?"

"They would probably target my character and destroy me if they did," Santana laughed, "this way is better. This is just for me."

Brittany watched her kill off a few more players before someone finally hit her with a large explosive.

"Damn tank," she pouted sarcastically, turning to Brittany and offering her controller, "you want to play?"

"Um," Brittany was surprised at the question. "I don't know how, I wouldn't want to mess up your game stats or whatever."

Santana quirked an eyebrow, "Really? Mess up my ridiculous revenge killing? I don't take it that seriously Brittany, really."

"No, I'm good," Brittany flushed, Santana was so different from Artie who would have never allowed her to play under his username. "I'm not a big fan of the killing thing."

Santana shrugged, going back to her game, "What article are you looking at?"

"The issue of _WIRED_ you did last year," Brittany looked down to the magazine in her lap.

There was a few pictures that pushed the boundaries... just a little.

Dressed in a pencil skirt and heels, her blouse tucked sharply into her skirt and more than enough buttons open... she was standing in front of a desk, one hand on a mouse to a Clockwork desktop computer, the other holding the latest generation of PDA. Looking coyly over one shoulder at the camera, Santana was angled for the perfect display of her feminine curves. Just a shape of her breast, the bend of her hips. Brittany followed her form down to the dainty way she was standing in her heels, one foot popped off the ground...

"That's one of my favorite magazines... when I'm not in it."

Santana looked over before she regenerated again, analyzing the spread with a hard eye. She looked like an idiot, dolled up to hold a shiny new product. She looked back to Brittany and as Santana watched her eyes run over the page, she felt herself swallow dryly, a dull heat coming over her body.

She desperately wanted Brittany's opinion of her.

"This is by far my favorite pictorial so far," the blonde glanced up at Santana from under her bangs with a rosy flush spread over her cheeks, "it reminds me of one of those classic pin-ups, with your foot up like that, and how your kind of surprised."

Santana's reaction to this was taking a turn for the unexpected. She should feel violated, that Brittany would sit here and looking at her in the most provocative poses that she's shot in months but all she could feel was flattered.

She chuckled dryly to herself, faking bitterness to keep from turning into a blushing mess. She went back to her game, "And isn't that just what every girl wants to hear?"

Brittany didn't miss the unstable edge to Santana's tone.

"Don't be like that," Brittany coaxed next to her, "you look beautiful."

Santana held her controller tighter to keep her fingers from shaking, she took a small calming breath and stood, "I um... gonna grab a beer, you want one?"

Brittany licked her lips absently as she continued looking through the magazine, "Please."

* * *

><p>"Wait!"<p>

Santana's thumbs stumbled over her joysticks, sending a confused glance to the blonde that had interrupted her, "What?"

"Don't run past that building," Brittany pointed at the screen with the hand that was holding her beer, "the creepy one on the left. Don't do it."

"If I want to get to the helicopter, I have to," Santana hesitated for just a moment before moving her character into the open at a sprint.

"But there's always a—"

She didn't get to finish before Santana was shot down by a hidden sniper.

"...sniper in that building," Brittany finished with a giggle.

Santana stared at the screen, unbelieving. "How did you know there was a sniper there?"

"There's _always_ a sniper there," Brittany turned a page in the magazine she was looking at slowly, Artie was always killed in that spot too. "I really like your early work."

"Thanks," Santana mumbled.

"This one especially," she held up the picture for Santana.

"That's one of Tina's shots," Santana smiled, oddly proud.

"She's great at what she does," Brittany admitted, "how long have you known her?"

"Almost as long as I've known Quinn," Santana's fingers manipulated the controller, her arms moving more liberally with her movements with the more alcohol she drank.

Brittany liked this Santana a lot, loose and care free, she either hadn't realized, or didn't mind, the blonde slowly inching her way over to her side of the couch.

"I think this dress is really pretty," Brittany leaned a little closer to show her the picture, their shoulders brushing lightly.

Santana glanced at the picture as her character ducked behind a large piece of rubble. "They keep me in dresses as much as possible."

"Is there a reason for that?"

"Blazers are too butch."

Brittany nearly spit out the beer in her mouth, coughing into her fist. Santana laughed, nudging the blonde's shoulder with her own, "You alright there?"

"Fine," she waved it off, "you just caught me off guard."

Santana grinned, she had just killed Jacob Israel again, but she was prouder of being able to make Brittany laugh.

Brittany caught her breath, and took another sip of her beer, "Even in a blazer, I would never peg you as butch."

Her words hung in the air for a moment, Santana's character remained unmoving on the screen in front of them. It was the definitive sound of her words that excluded the possibility that she was speaking hypothetically.

Santana flushed deeply, and Brittany watched her eyes skate around the room, "You think I'm gay."

It was so odd to say it out loud. If they talked about it, then it would add such a weight to the small things that could have been brushed off before. Would Brittany think she was checking her out every time she appreciated an outfit? Would she take her common courtesies, like holding the door open for her, as flirting?

"Am I wrong?"

Santana took a small breath through her nose, "Just because I hate most of the men I work with, doesn't mean I'm gay."

"Am I wrong?" Brittany repeated quietly.

Santana shook her head shortly, her eyes falling to her lap. She could feel a constricting pressure tighten around her chest, feeling Brittany's eyes on her. She waited for the reassuring comment that people felt obligated to say at that point.

Something like, "_That's cool, I don't have a problem with it, one of my best friends is gay."_

Brittany pulled her feet up on the couch, tucking them under herself. One of her arms snaked around the back of the couch, and if she wanted to, should could... maybe touch Santana's hair.

"I remember my first girlfriend."

The Latina heard a smile in Brittany's voice as she spoke, but she was too nervous to look up and confirm it.

"Her name was Rebecca, and she was cute, but a little... out there."

"Why didn't it work out?" Santana took a steady breath, the tension in her chest easing. Brittany wasn't just telling her it was alright, she was telling Santana that they had something in common.

"We got accepted into different colleges and didn't want to do the distance thing. She's married now, with two kids."

"That's cool," Santana fidgeted with her controller awkwardly, "one of my best friends is married."

"Oh yeah?" Brittany teased, "that's cool."

Santana licked her lips, the flush still on her cheeks, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say next, talk about her own first love?

"Your guy is about to die."

"Huh?"

Santana's eyes flickered back to the screen just in time to watcher her character die again. She snorted, "I'm doing horrible tonight, you sure you don't want to play?"

"Yeah," Brittany shifted a little, eyes running along Santana's profile, "I'd rather just watch."

* * *

><p>"Why does this have to be so early?"<p>

Brittany wanted to ask the same question, but that would have hardly been professional. She did smile when Kurt rolled his eyes at the woman that had asked the question.

"Really Santana?" he turned in his seat to look at the Latina from the passengers seat of Quinn's car. "You are the one that wanted it to start earlier so you can get it over with sooner."

"I don't remember saying anything like that," Santana frowned dramatically. "When and where did this alleged discussion take place?"

"In your office," Kurt's eyebrows furrowed, he wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

"Was I working on something else?" she asked. The glint in her eyes told Brittany she was having fun with him. "You know I don't listen to a thing you say when I'm working."

"I've noticed," Kurt huffed and turned back to the front. "Maybe if you would start paying attention, you would know why we're all awake so early in the morning."

Santana sent Brittany a smirk and whispered, "That's better than coffee."

She stifled a giggle and watched the scenery pass by around her. Just outside the city, was a little farther than she had originally thought. She really didn't mind though, the drive was comfortable, and the banter amusing. It didn't take them much longer to get to the studio. Brittany climbed out of the car and followed them into the large building. At first she was surprised at how spacious the lobby way, the surrounding walls decorated with large prints of what Brittany assumed to be Tina's work. A secretary waved at them and picked up her phone.

"I'll let Tina know you've arrived."

"Thank you, Ashley," Kurt and Quinn made their way to the reception desk and started talking with the woman behind the counter. Their natural interactions gave Brittany one more reason to think that this place was frequented by the Clockwork employees.

She took the opportunity to look around the prints on the walls. Tina seemed to favor black and whites, but there was a few in full color and sepia tones. She was drawn to a particularly somber black and white of a ballet dancer, finding herself walking over to study it closer.

A woman walked into the lobby to greet them from the back, "Hey guys, hope the drive wasn't too bad."

Kurt was the first break off from the group, embracing the Asian woman with a quick hug, "Of course not, this early in the morning, no one is even alive."

"Such a drama queen."

Brittany flinched, she hadn't realized Santana was so close to her, lingering just shy of her left shoulder, looking at the same picture that caught Brittany's eye.

"Tina," Quinn was the next in line for a hug, "it's been too long."

"I'm sure Santana will disagree with you," Tina met the brunette's eyes from across the lobby, Brittany looked back at the picture to keep from over-analyzing it.

"Whatever," Santana sent back, she watched her friends start to catch up with each other. "Britt, follow me."

Brittany looked at her with a puzzled expression, "What?"

"Quick!" Santana smirked with an excited gleam in her eye, glancing over her shoulder quickly to make sure her friends weren't looking before taking the blonde's hand and pulling her towards a door leading into the main gallery.

"Are we running away?" she giggled, caught up in Santana's small burst of silly energy, and the fact that she was holding her hand.

"I couldn't run from them if I tried," Santana chuckled. "No, I just wanted to show you my favorite picture."

Brittany let herself be pulled deeper into the gallery, leading her through the displays and exhibits. A buzz of warmth shooting through her, being alone in the quiet place, escaping from prying eyes, weaving though the dim rooms, holding this small hand, Brittany was so happy.

Santana brought her to a photo and the look on her face, the way her eyes widened as if seeing it for the first time, Brittany knew this was her favorite.

It was a panoramic picture of a woman sitting at the bar of a diner. She was drinking a cup of coffee, reading the news paper, a briefcase at her feet. A few feet away, a waitress was talking an order from a mother and her two children sitting at a booth.

It was entitled, _"What can I get you today?"_

"She's pretty good right?" Santana's eyes skated between the women on the photo, each one captured in a particularly different role. She wasn't sure which one she would rather be.

"It's incredible Santana," Brittany's eyes moved from the picture to Santana, still all too aware that they were holding hands.

"Yeah," Santana glanced around, "she does people mostly. She _loves_ shooting people, but sometimes she dabbles in cityscapes and artsy urban stuff."

"If I did this for a living," Brittany gestured widely to the photos along the walls, "I would like to take pictures of people too, I always prefer to write about people, if I can."

"She's a master at being in the room without making you feel like there's someone there waiting for you to pose," Santana ran her finger along the wall next to a photo of a few children in the park, "she's just... there, and takes the most beautiful candid photos."

There was a soft candor to Santana's voice, truly in awe of another woman's talent. Brittany watched her study a photo tilting her head slightly to match the off center angle of the shot, a few strands of her dark hair fell across her neck. Brittany wanted to reach over and brush them away.

"She's like a ninja," Santana smirked, finding herself clever.

"I resent that, Santana."

They turned, finding the owner of the establishment standing not three feet away.

Santana dropped Brittany's hand smoothly as she leaned over to the blonde and stage-whispered, "What did I tell you? _Ninja."_

Tina rolled her eyes, and pulled the brunette into a tight hug. She didn't miss the way Santana readily returned the physical contact. After a moment Tina pushed her back to hold Santana at arms length giving her a once over, "Did you get dressed up just for me?"

"Hey now, you said you wanted me raw," Santana shrugged glancing down at herself, in sweats and a comfortable hoodie, her hair was up in a loose bun. "It's not like you haven't seen me worse than this."

"That's true," Tina smiled, her eyes sliding to the blonde standing next to her friend, "you must be Brittany."

Her tone, and the way Santana glanced away, suggested that they had spoken about her before. Brittany wasn't sure what preconceived ideas Tina might have of her, but something about it felt like a challenge, and Brittany wasn't about to back down.

"I am," Brittany extended her hand and Tina took it for a steady shake, "Brittany Pierce, journalist. You must be Tina."

The woman Santana had referred to as a friend, someone she held a shine of respect for in the look of her eyes as she talked about her. Brittany knew that most of her favorite pictorials of Santana, were taken by Tina. Brittany had to admit she respected the woman.

"I am," she repeated with a smile in her tone, "Tina Cohen-Chang, photographer."

"By _far_, my favorite photographer," Santana added, she chuckled when Tina rolled her eyes.

"Your flattery will get you no where, we're still doing all the sets and all the outfits Clockwork requested."

Santana's face fell for a second before she resigned herself to suffer through the photo shoot, "You can't blame me for trying."

"I can, actually," Tina took her by the arm and pushed her towards the front of the studio, "go get ready, I want to start on time."

Santana glanced between her and Brittany, a little hesitant to leave.

"You're not coming with?"

"I don't need to be there until you're ready for make up," Tina laughed, realizing the reason for Santana's hesitation. "Don't worry, I'm just going to show her around."

"I'd like that," Brittany smiled, keeping Tina's eyes for a moment. "Really Santana, we'll be right there."

"Don't be too long," Santana eyed them both, still hesitant.

"Santana!" Kurt called from the other room. "We need you back here."

"Coming," she gave Tina one last warning look and Brittany a soft smile, before she turned towards the main studio.

"This is a really pretty photo," she looked towards the photo of the women in the diner.

"Thank you," Tina's voice was sincere, she took a moment to remember taking it. "I've seen some of your work. You take all of the photos that accompany your articles, right?"

"I do," Brittany flushed, it seemed that Tina had put just as much research into her as she had into Tina. "It's just snap shots with a Nikon."

"You have an eye for a candid," she smiled. "That picture of Santana at the convention... I really liked it."

"Thank you, but I know it's total amateur compared to your stuff."

"Let me give you a tour of the studio," Tina took a step towards another door, "then we'll go find Santana and the rest of them."

"Alright," Brittany followed her back through the main gallery. "Are all of these yours?"

"Not all, but most," she explained, "I have a few freelancers working with me, I show their best work and they can rent out the studio if they want."

"This is all very impressive," Brittany admitted, "you're not in a very forgiving business."

Tina laughed at that, "You're right, it is kind of hard to make it as a photographer. We're a dime a dozen."

"How did you make it?" Brittany followed Tina into another room, this one full of the cityscapes Santana had mentioned.

"Actually..." Tina watched Brittany appreciate the work around her, "Santana was my big break."

She almost smiled at the blue eyes that shifted towards her instantly, a deep focus in them.

"We had been close in college," she shrugged, continuing without needing a prompt, "I graduated, moved to the city, and ultimately we lost touch. I was working as a travel agent and taking wedding photos on the side. She was making her way up the ranks of Clockwork."

Brittany dropped all pretense of looking at more photographs to listen.

"She calls me up one day..." Tina paused reliving the moment. "She told me she needed a photographer."

"You were the photographer for her first cover shot," Brittany had found that out after going through the magazine's with Santana. The parallel wasn't lost on her, she knew that Santana was doing the same thing with her career in journalism.

Tina nodded, "Things really took off after that. It was such a huge break for me, to be called in as a freelance photographer to a popular magazine. I'm still not sure how she managed to get them to approve it, because trust me, I was in way over my head."

"Those photos were brilliant."

Tina laughed, a flattered smile on her face, "Tell Santana that, she's such a perfectionist."

"She does hold herself to this impossible standard," Brittany mused out loud. "At first I thought she's trying to prove herself to everyone else, like the people at Clockwork... but sometimes... I think she's trying to feel like she's worth something."

Tina studied her, and Brittany held her gaze with a small trace of defiance.

Finally, Tina's lips quirked into a smile, her eyes offering a pleasant surprise, and Brittany felt like she had passed some sort of test. "Come on, let's go find her."


	13. Chapter 13

They moved through the studio, Tina showing Brittany the different sets and places for wardrobe. It was the first time Brittany had ever been in a professional studio like this, and she had nothing to compare it to, but she was impressed. This was Tina's world and Brittany got the idea that even without Santana's influence, she would have made this happen for herself.

"That's my set crew," the photographer explained with a wave, "I try to keep no more than five around at a time."

Brittany glanced at the people setting things up on the set they were going to be using. She noticed that they were all women. She wondered if that was a precaution for Santana's sake or if it was Tina's hiring preference. Brittany followed Tina along a wall of various dressing rooms until they stopped at the door closest to the active set. Tina knocked and as they waited for an answer, they heard Santana's voice float through it.

"Kurt, no. I am not wearing that thing with the straps. I'm not doing it."

The door opened and Quinn slipped out, "Good you're here, she's already flipping out about the wardrobe. I'm going for coffee, have fun with that."

Tina laughed at her as they moved into the door.

Brittany found Santana sitting in a salon chair wearing a black robe, a stylist stood behind her, blow-drying her dark hair. Santana's arms were crossed over her chest, a heavy glare fixated on the material hanging from the clothing rack across from her. When she noticed them walking into the room her glare softened into a mild look of annoyance.

"Santana," Tina crossed the room and took the offending dress off the rack, "you know the rules."

"I don't care," her voice dropped a little, she didn't want to throw a fit in front of Brittany. "I'm not wearing it."

"What are the rules?" Brittany asked Kurt quietly as she took a seat next to him in one of the chairs along the wall.

"But it's so pretty."

"Yeah, pretty _skimpy_."

"She's not allowed to refuse an outfit until after she tries it on," Kurt answered with a roll of his eyes. "Just wait until her coffee buzz wears off, she's hasn't even _started_ being a diva yet."

Brittany had to smile, watching Santana's jaw set rebelliously as Tina tried to coax her into at least giving the dress a chance. She recrossed her legs, the robe slipping a little further up her thigh. Brittany had to look away.

"I think it's kind of cute," Brittany chuckled to Kurt who looked disbelieving.

Tina shook her head, "I wouldn't call this designer skimpy, Santana."

"Really? Because that clasp on the back looks like a quick release button. It's totally a stripper dress."

"This dress cost more than your fancy computers."

"And yet," Santana scoffed, rolling her eyes, "it's about as useful as a wet rag."

A breath of a laugh escaped the photographer. Tina smiled at Santana, who was looking back at her, waiting for a rebuttal.

"I've missed you, Santana."

Santana's glare broke into a grin that they shared.

"Who wouldn't?"

* * *

><p>With her hair finally finished, the stylist scuttled out of the dressing room and Santana progressed to the next stage in the process.<p>

Brittany watched Tina set up the makeup kits along the vanity, pick up a brush, and slowly lower herself until she was sitting on Santana's lap, one leg on either side of her hips. Santana was still talking about something that had happened at work last week and didn't seem fazed by the action at all. The way her hands settled instantly on Tina's thighs said she was pretty comfortable with it. Their conversation never wavered, they were casual, familiar, close.

Brittany felt her eyes narrow, something between her shoulder blades tighten.

"She always does this."

Brittany jumped a little as Kurt spoke next to her, "What?"

"Tina and Santana," Kurt leaned over to whisper to her, "they always do this. I'm sure you find it odd that she's doing Santana's makeup."

She found Tina's position on Santana more odd than the actual makeup application.

"The thing we love about working with Tina," Kurt clarified, "is that, beyond hair, she can take care of almost everything herself. Her sets are always able to be prepped by just a handful of people, and sometimes even herself if she can swing it. It makes everything so personable, everything is in her influence, lighting, placement, makeup."

"Oh," Brittany laughed a little, trying to downplay her bubbling unrest in her stomach. "Yeah, Santana's said that Tina has been her friend since college so... I guess it makes sense that they're… comfortable with each other."

A slow grin spread over Kurt's face that Brittany didn't notice, "Tina is great at bringing her out of her shell. Besides, sitting on her is the best way to keep her still throughout the whole thing."

If Brittany thought about it objectively, she had to give Santana credit. The girl had taste; Tina was beautiful.

She was radiant actually, with her hair in a perfectly casual bun, the gray and silver button down blouse with slimming slacks accentuated all of the right features, Brittany didn't blame Santana for looking. Being in her lap probably didn't help matters either. The photographer reached over, maybe just a little further down than absolutely necessary, as she went for another eyeliner pencil. The movement gave Santana an all too perfect view down Tina's shirt.

Santana had the courtesy to be subtle about it, and Brittany was sure no one would notice her discrepancy unless they were actively looking for it. She knew it was more than just a customary glance to compare, as women sometimes did, by the way Santana's eyes appreciated more than just her breasts. They trailed the curve of Tina's neck and up to her jaw. Watching the photographer worry her bottom lip in concentration.

Brittany wondered if she wanted to kiss the woman.

She hoped not.

Santana, it seemed, was open to physical contact. She allowed Quinn to lead her by the arm at the conventions, and she was accustomed Blaine's friendly pats in the gym. Tina was one more person in Santana's inner circle of physical closeness. She found herself, desperately, wanting to be apart of that. She wanted to reach over and take Santana's hand whenever she wanted. To put an arm around her waist while they were walking. To perhaps... kiss her on the cheek when they said goodnight to each other in the lobby of Clockwork.

Brittany wanted to smile and frown at the same time.

She wanted to smile because it was adorable how the Latina would flush lightly at the barest of touches, or when Tina would ask her a question and she needed to pull her eyes of of the photographer's cleavage to answer it.

She wanted to frown because she was jealous. She wanted to be the one making Santana blush, or advert her eyes in that coy little manner. Brittany wanted to march over there and push Tina out of the way, just so she could be the one applying lipstick to those deliciously full lips—

But she couldn't, so she just watched from her seat not too far off from the vanity. She reminded herself that she was there to observe, to experience Santana's life in its entirety, and that meant watch another woman sit on her lap and make her laugh.

* * *

><p>"You need to stop that."<p>

Santana furrowed her brow, why were they whispering?

"Huh?"

"Checking me out," Tina smirked lightly.

Santana flushed, "I've been in this chair for half an hour, what else am I supposed to look at?"

"Not my chest," Tina teased.

"Like you even have one."

"Shut up," Tina breathed so only Santana could hear, keeping her lips from moving as much as possible. "She's already drilling holes into my skull."

Santana snorted disbelievingly.

"I'm being serious, I'm surprised she hasn't taken this pencil out of my hand and stabbed me with it," Tina wiggled the eyeliner pencil slightly in front of Santana's face.

"Don't talk about stabbing when you're about to use that thing," Santana mumbled. "It freaks me out."

Tina chuckled lightly, "Oh, be quiet. I think you're right about her. She might really be interested in you."

"You say that like you're surprised."

"I am," Tina whispered back to her. "It's not like you to let someone in this close so soon."

Santana bit the inside of her cheek, "She has a sneaky little way of getting past my defenses."

"Not an easy feat," she smiled softly, "I know I never made it past most of them."

Santana's brow furrowed in the only way she was able to express guilt with the utensils lining her eyes.

"I'm... sorry about that."

"I never took it personally," she brushed it off. "I'm just glad that you've finally found someone to let in."

"Nothing's even happened between us, I don't know why people keep insisting that we're long lost soul mates or something—"

"Santana hush," Tina took a risk and used a finger to lift the brunette's jaw shut. "You took her, by the hand, into my gallery, to show her your favorite photo. I don't think Quinn even knows which one is your favorite."

"That's because Quinn's never asked," Santana brushed it off, but the Tina could feel the heat on her cheeks.

"I doubt Brittany did."

"Whatever."

"Hold still, I'm almost finished."

They fell silent as Tina stood up, hovering over Santana to examine her work. She turned to Kurt and Brittany, "What do you think?"

"She's beautiful."

She hadn't meant to say it, but when Santana's eyes slid over towards hers, Brittany was glad that she had. The flush on those tanned cheeks was quite adorable, and perhaps, more pronounced than anything Tina had earned.

* * *

><p>Brittany took a spot next to Kurt at the computer that was connected to Tina's camera.<p>

The girls were on a set that depicted a stately looking study. Classic literature lined the walls, posh rug under her feet, and a realistic electric fireplace sat along the back wall washing warm light over the area. Santana was sitting in regal leather armchair, dressed in a classy black dress and a pearl necklace, a Clockwork laptop placed on her thighs.

"Santana, stop checking your email and focus."

"Tina," Santana rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't you want this to be as authentic as possible?"

"She's such a diva," Kurt chuckled to Brittany from the booth.

"The light from the screen is messing up my shot," Tina frowned at her from above the camera, "now do you want to get this over with or not?"

"Fine." Santana powered down the computer and asked, "How's my position?"

"Tilt the screen just a little farther forward, I need the logo to catch the light," Tina squinted through her lens. "That's perfect, now, left hand on the computer, and your other elbow on the arm of the chair."

"Like this?" Santana sat as Tina directed her and looked towards the photographer.

"That's perfect Santana," Tina smiled into her camera, "now let's get to work."

Brittany and Kurt watched the pictures populate on the laptop in front of them.

"Oh wow," Kurt mused, shuffling through them, "that's pretty."

"Totally," Brittany agreed.

"I think they're going to photoshop the computer screen in later," Kurt told her, "it's too hard to capture on film like this."

"Makes sense."

Tina directed Santana into a variance of poses, subtle changes in her body shape. Place her hand here or there, look this way or that. It was all very repetitive and Brittany could see how Santana could grow to resent it. After a dozen or so pictures, Kurt was satisfied that they had achieved a few great pictures.

"I think we got this shot, Tina. Why don't you come check it out?"

"Be right there," Tina smiled, she knew of a particular frame that she thought stood out among the rest.

"You guys are already done with the first set?" Quinn appeared out of the main gallery and started towards them.

"Santana just rocked it," Tina praised as she came towards them.

"Hey Britt," Kurt took the drink out of Quinn's hand and offered it to the journalist, "do me a huge favor and take this to Santana, and please, for the love of god, keep her from touching her makeup."

Brittany laughed, taking the drink and standing up, "I'll do my best."

* * *

><p>Santana wasn't a fan of photo shoots; it was the epitome of invasion. Right now, she had three people circling a computer to look at photos of her. Analyzing, comparing, judging. She knew they were doing it with the best kind of intention, but even then, it was too much for comfort.<p>

She smiled when Brittany crossed the set to come and talk to her. The blonde sank onto the arm of the chair Santana was sitting in, holding out a cup of iced tea with a straw.

"Compliments of Quinn," Brittany smiled softly.

"Thanks. So what do you think so far?" she took the drink and helped herself to a sip.

She laughed, looking around at everything, "I don't envy you, Santana."

"I'm glad you understand why I hate this," she sighed, "and the worst part is that Tina makes it as painless as possible, and its still torture."

"I don't even want to know how the other shoots go," Brittany agreed.

They sank into a small silence, watching people work around them, either setting up the lights or fixing props. Brittany shifted a little on the arm of the chair, taking Santana's empty cup from her hands and set it on the floor next to them.

"So."

One of Santana's eyebrows lifted in question.

Brittany continued, "You and Tina."

"Me and Tina?"

"Is that proper English?" Brittany jested, poking the brunette's shoulder lightly.

A slow grin spread over Santana's face, "Tina and I, then."

"Tina and I...?" Brittany prompted the continuation of that sentence.

Santana's eyes fell to her nails, "Are friends?"

"You're close," Brittany knew she was treading a line, but she was curious and she knew Santana understood what she was asking. "Close enough to let her sit in your lap for just about an hour."

"We..." Santana flushed a little, dropping her voice, "...might have been something more than friends. In a past life."

"You only have one life Santana," Brittany chuckled, gracing her with an amused look, one that made Santana feel playful and giddy. "All the bits and pieces are connected somehow."

"Compartmentalization is a hobby of mine."

"I'm not sure what Dr. Phil would have to say about that."

"I could care less about that man's opinion," Santana snorted.

"Is that just because it's a _man's_ opinion?"

Santana blinked, surprised at the question.

"I'm kidding," Brittany's serious face broke into a sly grin.

Santana ducked her head, a breath of laughter escaping her. She moved to scratch her nose in an effort to hide her blush.

"Don't—" Brittany caught Santana's hand before she could reach her face, "touch you makeup."

"Did Kurt send you over here to babysit me?" Santana asked, her eyes flickering between Brittany's face and their hands.

"I'm not complaining," she smiled running her thumb lightly over the underside of Santana's wrist. "Tell me about this... past life of yours."

"Tina and I, dated briefly," she watched Brittany's eyes, "in college... it was a phase."

"For her?"

Santana flushed, and Brittany watched her eyes skate around the room.

"Yes."

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking," she coaxed, turning Santana's hand over so her palm was face up. She used her index finger to trace a small pattering in the brunette's skin. The action was soft and calming, and Santana's eyes wanted to roll into the back of her head from the feel of it. "You two seem to work well together."

Santana laughed lightly and Brittany's stomach flipped at the sound, "You mean she doesn't take my crap."

Brittany grinned, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, "Maybe?"

"I was actually the one that ended it," Santana sighed, sparing a glance to the woman across the set. "She deserved someone that could make her happy."

Brittany's eyebrows furrowed, her eyes were softly asking for Santana to continue.

"I'm being serious," Santana's voice dropped into a self-conscious mumble. "A lot of stuff went down a few months after we started seeing each other... I cut it off to spare her the drama."

"I'm not sure if that's noble or... kind of silly of you."

Santana sent her a puzzled look, it was hard to think with those nails running over her palm, "How do you mean?"

"Do you always push people away when you're hurt?"

Santana ran her tongue over her teeth because she couldn't lick her lips. She was surprised that Brittany didn't ask what the drama that lead up to the breakup was. She didn't know how much longer she could keep it from her.

"I'm going to take your shy silence as a yes," Brittany smiled softly, pressing her whole palm into Santana's.

She wanted to interlace their fingers, but couldn't. That would be too personal. To intimate. She was already crossing the line. Her heart thudded when she felt Santana's fingers flutter upwards, so they would brush against hers more fully. Did Santana want the same thing? To hold her hand?

"It's nice that you're still friends," Brittany said honestly. Tina seemed like a nice woman, and she liked the idea of Santana being surrounded by good people.

Because it seemed like it was exceptionally important at the time, Santana blurted out, "Just friends." She blushed when her mind caught up to her mouth, "She's done a lot for me, but we're um… just friends."

A blushing smile spread over Brittany's face, "Good to know."

Santana dropped her eyes, knowing she had put herself out there a little too far.

"Your hands…"

The pads of Brittany's fingers ran over a particularly coarse patch of Santana's palm.

"Are gross," Santana whispered self-consciously, her fingers curled up trying to hide her palm, "I know."

"Are my favorite," Brittany brushed her fingers back again, brushing her own hand against Santana's until they caught at the thumb, positioned for a formal shake. "I noticed it the first time we shook hands… I like the way you hand feels…"

She wanted to finish that statement with, _in mine_, but that would have been entirely too inappropriate and she had basically been holding Santana's hand for the past fifteen minutes already. Brittany just couldn't help herself. She couldn't seem to keep the borders professional. She couldn't look down at the Latina, blushing with that shy smile, and not want to make her smile like that again.

"Santana, these turned out great."

Tina's voice cut through their little world. Brittany and Santana took their hands back instantly, making sure to make it look as casual as possible.

"We can start on the next set."

* * *

><p>She didn't understand why this was necessary. She hated this much product in her hair and this dress was probably the skimpiest sheet of material she's ever worn. Santana was following Kurt's instruction and holding very still. As still as completely possible while he fiddled with the zipper in the back.<p>

That horrible thing with the straps.

"I swear they make these zippers so small you need tweezers to grab onto them," Kurt mumbled from behind her.

"I swear they make these dresses so uncomfortable, you need a stiff drink just to leave your house," Santana seethed.

"Come on," Kurt rolled his eyes, "it could be worse."

"I don't see how."

"You could be wearing nothing but a lacy thong and—"

"Okay!" Santana cut him off, not needing the imagery, "okay, it could be worse."

"Hold your front up, I'm going to let this strap go so I can get a better hold of this zipper."

"Are you telling me I'm too fat for this dress?"

"Not at all," Kurt snorted, "I just need two hands to get this."

She put a hand on the material covering her chest as Kurt let go of the straps that would be tied to a metal ring between her shoulder blades.

Santana huffed impatiently, "This is taking too long."

"We're going to be here all day anyway so I don't even want to hear it," he scolded lightly. "If you don't want them sending in the professionals, you're just going to have to put up with me."

She rolled her eyes but didn't say anything else.

"I can't get this," Kurt stood up and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you—"

He had already left before Santana could finish her question. She let out an aggravated sigh, stranded in the dressing room, half dressed and holding flimsy material over her chest.

The door opened and Santana paled as much as she blushed when Brittany walked into the room with Kurt.

"Hey," she smiled kindly. She wasn't surprised that Santana looked a little uncomfortable at her appearance.

With this growing... _something_, between them, Brittany had stayed out of the dressing room as Santana went to change outfits. She knew there was no reason for her to be in the room for that. She hoped Santana knew that she meant it as a gesture of respect towards her modesty. She didn't want Santana to think she was taking advantage of this situation.

"Kurt said he needed some help, can I try?"

"Knock yourself out," Santana shrugged gruffly, then regretted that decision when the straps of her dress fell lower on her shoulders, one slipping off completely.

Brittany crossed the room, slowly, cautiously, as if Santana was a stray cat that could run at any moment. She reached out and touched the Latina's arm lightly, "You look very pretty, Santana."

The warm brown eyes skated around the room to avoid Brittany's as she flushed lightly, clutching the dress to her chest tighter. She was vulnerable, uncomfortable, and there was no escape.

"Thanks."

"Let me see if I can get this zipper," Brittany moved behind her and as soon as she was out of view Santana glared daggers at the stylish man leaning casually against the wall.

Kurt smiled slyly and said, "I'm going to go tell Tina that you'll only be a few more minutes."

With that, he slipped out and left Santana alone and half dressed with the girl that made her heart race and her stomach drop.

"Jeez Kurt was right," Brittany chuckled quietly, "this zipper is tiny."

Santana felt Brittany fumble with the small piece of metal, her knuckles brushing along the material at the base of her spine. It was the most excruciatingly nerve-wracking thing, having the woman standing behind her, working on a zipper that would cover just a small portion of her bare back.

Santana could feel Brittany's breath on her shoulder as she said, "I think I got it."

It was irrational, but Santana felt her stomach tense inward in a last ditch effort to make this zipper go up and get this whole ordeal over with. She felt the zipper move up the tracks, cinching the material around her body.

"There we go," Brittany glanced up and met Santana's eyes through the mirror. "Can I get these straps?"

Santana nodded and tried to adjust her dress straps into Brittany's reach without revealing too much. She froze all together when Brittany reached around her shoulder and took her wrist in her hand.

"Let me get them."

Santana's breath caught in throat. Brittany's arms moved easily around her, taking her straps with a little more care than needed. She was so close, just a inch behind the shorter girl. Her presence was just as electrifying as actual contact, the thought that if she leaned back just a little, she would be pressing against—

"You really do look pretty Santana," she whispered, focusing on the straps, pulling them carefully over Santana's shoulders. Her thumbs brushed lightly against the skin as she went.

Santana willed her voice to keep from shaking with she said, "Thank you, Britt."

Brittany attached the shoulder straps to the metal ring, then another set that stemmed from the material around her ribcage. Santana was finally secure into her dress.

That should have been the end of it.

But Brittany lingered, there in Santana's presence, her fingers still tucked softly under the final straps. She didn't want to step away. She watched Santana's hands run along the edge of the vanity, her head tipping to the left as she studied the journalist in the mirror. Waiting with calculating eyes for Brittany's next move.

"I feel like..." Brittany struggled to come up with words to describe the feeling in her chest, "I'm letting you down."

Santana's face asked her to continue.

"I know that," she dropped her eyes to a small freckle on Santana's shoulder, then followed the soft arch of her neck, she swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss the skin there, "you hate it when the men at the conventions... stare at you. How they," she licked her lips, "want you."

Santana watched Brittany struggle with herself until she met Santana's eyes with a determined expression.

"Can I be honest with you, for a second?"

"I would appreciate it," Santana breathed. She was both hoping for, and dreading Brittany's next words.

What she wasn't expecting, was no words at all.

Santana's felt her entire body tense as Brittany's lips touched her skin, her eyes squeezed shut, her heart flared. The soft skin burned into the crook of her neck, hands taking a gentle hold her either of her biceps. She sucked in a breath, arching onto her toes to somehow get closer to the woman that inspired such a electrifying sensation.

"Britt," Santana let out a shuddering breath and Brittany loved the sound of her name in such a husky tone. A light noise escaped Santana's throat as Brittany's front came into full contact with her back. The soft material of her shirt brushed light against her bare shoulders.

Brittany took a gamble and glanced up at Santana through the mirror.

Her eyes were still closed, her mouth open slightly, the barest line between her eyebrows, as if she was concentrating entirely too hard to keep herself in control. Brittany could feel the heat pouring off of her body, the skin under her lips erupting into a warm flush.

Brittany pulled back slightly, letting her breath wash against the spot on Santana's neck that she had claimed.

With a frantic energy, Santana spun around to face her, pressing against the vanity to get as much distance between them as possible, her hands gripped the edge of the vanity tightly, eyes shifting between Brittany's.

"Brittany I—" she let out a unsteady breath, she felt so naked. Brittany could see how flustered she was, how her breath was shallow, how much she was affected by just a kiss on her shoulder.

Brittany licked her lips, a deep flush spreading over her face. She could barely hold Santana's eyes. She knew this wasn't the most ideal way to do this, with Santana in one of her most vulnerable settings, wearing a dress that embodied the objectification she was constantly subjected to.

"Santana," she took a small breath, steadying herself, "you're so much more than a pretty face, or someone who's really good at computer stuff."

Brittany's hand snaked down her arm, settling on Santana's clenched fist against the counter. She ran thumb over her knuckles until the tension eased and she was able to slip her fingers between Santana's.

"Everyday, you impress me in some little way... just by being yourself, and not a department head, or a poster girl, or whatever..."

Santana blinked rapidly, her eyes falling to their hands, then back to Brittany's eyes. This was happening. Brittany was telling her that she meant something to her. Something more than her body, something more that a title.

"So please, don't think I'm forgetting all of that," she looked at Santana through her eyelashes, their bodies gravitating closer together, "when I act like those men, and can't take my eyes off of you..."

Santana knew what she was doing, leaning forward, lifting herself onto her toes so she could be just a little closer. She was about to kiss this woman, the gorgeous blonde that had her wrapped around her little finger.

Brittany shifted slightly, right at the last second, so their foreheads connected instead of their lips.

A puff of her pout escaped Santana's mouth, and Brittany had to smile.

"As much as I would love to," she pulled back, bringing the Latina's palm to her lips instead, "I would hate to ruin your makeup, and I know you probably wouldn't want anyone asking questions..."

Santana fell back onto her heels, a deep flush on her cheeks, her pulse pounding in her ears. Brittany was right, this wasn't the time. Not here, with her friends watching her every move, with stage hands wandering about, and certainly not in this godforsaken dress.

"You're right..." She gave Brittany's hand a squeeze, thankful that she had thought of their privacy before things got out of hand.

"Come on," Brittany took a step backwards, and Santana followed by the hand, "let's get this thing over with."

Santana thought that was a great idea.


	14. Chapter 14

She had almost kissed her.

That woman, the blonde, sitting in the chair next to Kurt. The one looking over her photos with such a soft affection that Santana didn't even think she could find fault in herself for trying.

"Have you two slept together yet?"

Santana's jaw fell open, fixing Tina with a indignantly stare, "Excuse me?"

"I guess not," Tina chuckled. "Hold still."

She reached forward to adjust a small curl of dark hair. Santana frowned, her eyes shifting back to Brittany. Was it that obvious that they had chemistry? Could someone get the wrong, or right, idea about them?

"I can feel the sexual tension between you two."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she shifted on her heels.

That, of course, was a blatant lie. Even from across the set she could feel Brittany's presence in the room, it was like that one moment in the dressing room had reorientated her entire being to the blonde. Every time Brittany moved her eyes were drawn to the movement. She wanted to catch every smile, every time she touched her hair, every laugh she shared with Kurt.

Santana wanted it all, but right now she needed to focus.

"What is this set all about anyway?" Santana gestured to the archway around her. "Why am I standing next to this door with a phone? I feel like I was just stood up, and I'm calling to find out why they ditched my ass."

"Don't pick apart my sets," Tina frowned, "come on, I'm going to start up again."

Santana brought the PDA to her ear, ready to get this over with.

"Adjust your grip, I can't see the logo."

Santana rolled her eyes, and as she did, she heard the unmistakable click of a shutter sounding.

"Wha—"

It was only moments before Brittany and Kurt started giggling at the computer booth.

"That eye-roll is her signature look," Kurt teased, winking at the brunette from across the set.

"Very classy," Brittany agreed, she sent Santana a lighthearted smile across the set. To anyone else it might have just been a smile, but Santana saw the subtle affection in her eyes. Santana flushed, under her gaze and turned to glare at the photographer. She heard another shot being taken.

"Tina, knock it off," Santana huffed as her friends started laughing again.

"Alright, alright," she smiled back up at Santana, "please pose for me."

Santana didn't answer her, she just readjusted the way she was holding the PDA and went back to work. This was their last set and she just wanted to get out of this dress and out of this studio. It only took about another twenty minutes to get the shot Tina needed, and Santana was so grateful for it. She took a relieved breath and excused herself to the locker room in the back to wash off the makeup on her face and the product out of her hair.

"Which one is your favorite Britt?" Kurt asked, clicking through the photos.

She didn't have to think about it, "This set, by far."

She pointed to a group of photos, a close up of Santana with a Bluetooth earpiece and a PDA, "It's like the classic Audrey Hepburn pose, but instead of a cigarette holder, it's a cellphone."

"It's so hard to get her to play along with those," Tina laughed, "she hates pouting her lips."

"She doesn't really have to, does she?" Brittany asked quietly, her mouth getting away from her. She blushed and tried to save face, "I mean, they're kind of naturally pouty."

"That they are Britt," Kurt nodded, glossing over her stout observation.

"I'm um, just going to run to the restroom," she stood up quickly, looking for an excuse to leave their amused glances.

Brittany headed off towards the front of the studio, less interested in finding a restroom than finding a place that she could think. Her heels clicked softly in the empty gallery. It was oddly comforting to be surrounded by pictures of people, she didn't feel so alone or apprehensive about the future.

She had crossed the line of no return with Santana. She had put herself out there and... kissed Santana's neck. A giddy smile spread over her face at the memory of it. The fire in her chest that had sparked in that moment rekindled itself. She felt warm all over. Santana was something special.

Even now Brittany could hear her voice running through her head... and she was speaking Spanish?

Brittany looked around, realizing Santana's voice wasn't a figment of her imagination, she didn't see the woman. She moved quietly, not wanting to interrupt, enjoying the sound of Santana's voice bouncing off the walls. She found Santana walking through an entry way of the gallery wing, freshly showered looking comfortable. Her Nike gym bag was slung over her shoulder. She was watching the floor in front of her, her attention too focused on her telephone conversation than anyone around her.

Her voice was quiet, foreign words rolling easily off her tongue and Brittany found it melodic. She heard Tina's name thrown into the mix and guessed Santana was speaking about the photo shoot. Brittany didn't miss the subtle way her tone was asking for approval, or the way her fingers were fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket anxiously. She realized that Santana had probably taken a detour through the gallery for a private conversation.

She rested her shoulder against the wall to see if Santana noticed her or walked right by.

Santana stopped abruptly, turning slightly, Brittany caught a glimpse of her face just as it fell into a crestfallen frown. The look disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, only to be replaced with an annoyed grimace, "But Dad, she's not even my sister, so why do I care if they're engaged?"

Brittany blinked, knowing that a language barrier was no longer keeping the conversation private.

"I don't need to meet him, do you think she wants my approval or something? That's a _joke_."

Santana's jaw snapped shut and her eyes shot to the ceiling in a manner that reminded Brittany of a scolded child, and maybe that was exactly what was happening.

She said something in Spanish before sighing, "I'll see what I can do... no, I'm not just saying that."

Santana's voice slipped back into the sensual sounds of her Spanish tongue as she finished up her conversation. She stashed her phone in the pocket of her jacket and for a moment just stood there, running her hands through her hair, looking around like she was searching for something. It didn't take long before Santana's eyes fell on her. The lost nature became refocused into the analytical gaze she usually sported.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt," Brittany apologized softly. She sent the Latina a warm smile, trying to reassure her that she wasn't trying to invade her privacy.

Santana took a small breath, trying to push down her guarded nature and remind herself that Brittany cared about her. A ghost of a smile brightened her features.

"Have you been spying on me?"

Brittany pushed off of the wall and gave an exaggerated shrug, "That's my job right?"

"I'm not sure if eavesdropping is in the job description," Santana crossed her arms over her chest in a thoughtful manner.

"Does it count as eavesdropping if I can't speak Spanish?" Brittany quirked an eyebrow smoothly.

Santana laughed, "Maybe not, but... I'm sure you understood some of it."

Brittany nodded, unwilling to lie. She walked a little closer and smiled when Santana started moving towards her too. She shifted the bag slightly on her shoulder to give her something to do as she crossed the wing to get meet Brittany in the middle.

She was nervous, the last time she was in a room alone with the blonde she had almost kissed her. She might not have said it as eloquently as Brittany had, but her actions spoke for her and she was pretty sure that Brittany knew her intentions. She was most assuredly interested in the journalist in a more than professional manner.

"How long have you been standing there?" Santana asked quietly.

"Not too long," Brittany took one last step and they were just a foot apart from each other. "Only long enough to hear about people you're not related to, not wanting your opinion about a fiance that you don't care about."

Santana licked her lips, "My stepsister just got engaged, and she's bringing him home to meet my father and stepmother. He thinks I should come home too. They want to make it into some sort of... event."

"A family event," Brittany clarified.

Santana frowned at the very idea, "Yeah."

"I take it you don't get along with your step..." she didn't want to used the word family so she settled for, "...people."

"Stepmother and sister, after my father's remarriage," Santana chuckled dryly, "and no, I never have."

"Your family lives in Ohio," Brittany remembered her research, "right?"

Santana reminded herself to not be surprised that Brittany knew a little about her background, "They live in a cesspool, yes."

Brittany smiled, "I don't think Ohio qualifies as a cesspool."

"Have you ever been to Ohio?" Santana quirked an eyebrow.

"Does a connecting flight in Columbus count?"

Santana laughed, the tension of the previous conversation shaking out of her shoulders. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up to Brittany, "No, I don't think that counts."

"Then I'll just have to take your word for it." Brittany gestured to Santana's outfit, "Do you feel a little better? In you own clothes?"

"You have no idea."

They shared a smile, remembering the dressing room. Santana could feel the skin of her shoulder still burning, her eyes glanced to Brittany's lips and the cause of that feeling.

"All of us," she licked her lips, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jacket to keep them busy, "Tina, Q, Kurt, and I, are going out for dinner after this… you should come with."

"If this is the first time you're seeing Tina in a while," Brittany smiled bashfully, "I wouldn't want to impose."

Santana brushed off her polite concern, "When we get back out there, Tina's going to be the first to invite you along, trust me."

Brittany smiled at that, glad that Santana's friends have been accepting of her so far.

"You know… you should see if Rachel might be interested," Santana continued, "Quinn would like that."

"I don't think she has any plans tonight," Brittany mused, pulling out her phone. "Let me text her."

Santana watched her play with her phone, she liked standing here with Brittany, she liked making plans with her. She was excited for dinner and this... whatever was between them. She couldn't believe Brittany would want to get involved with someone like her. Someone so boxed in and bitter at the world around her.

As Brittany typed a small message to Rachel she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Santana, had taken a few steps, two maybe three, to the left, just enough to offset her position so that Brittany wasn't looking directly at her.

"Do you know where we're going?" Brittany asked, turning towards the brunette again.

"A pizza parlor," Santana glanced up from a photo she had been looking at. Her eyes skimmed over the phone in Brittany's hand before meeting the woman's eyes, "if I have anything to say about it."

Brittany smiled, "It's just that Rachel is a vegan."

"I remember, Quinn get's the vegan pizza when she's on those weird crash diets," Santana rolled her eyes. She took a few more casual steps out of Brittany's direct line of sight, adjusting her bag in a fidgeting moment. "I can't tell you if it's good or not, but they offer something."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Brittany edited her message and hit the send button. To satisfy her curiosity she kept her phone out, and turned to Santana again, "This makes you uncomfortable."

Santana looked away from a photo on the wall with a confused expression, "What? Making dinner plans with vegans?"

"Me, pointing a phone at you."

Santana's eyes dropped to the device, the lens of the small embedded camera gleaming in the lights around them. It was the way she could have easily pressed a button and snapped a photo. She took a step towards Brittany and reached out, pushing the phone down so it wasn't pointing at her.

"You never stop, do you?" she let out a shell of a laugh.

"How am I supposed to keep from making you uncomfortable, if I don't know what does?"

Santana loved the genuine concern in her voice, it made her heart clench. Brittany didn't want to know for the sake of the feature, she wanted to know for her own sake. So she could be conscious of Santana's preferences and how she fit into the world around her.

"There are enough pictures of me floating around," Santana whispered, "I don't need any more."

Brittany didn't miss the edge to her tone, "I feel like it's more than that."

"It is..." Santana admitted. "It's always more than _just_ a picture, it's like stealing to me."

"What do you mean?"

"When someone takes a picture of you, with or without your consent, professional photographers, paparazzi, some idiot on the subway with an iPhone," Santana licked her lips, she had never talked about this before. "They take that moment of your life and... warp it, take it out of context, plaster it all over the internet. Once they take it... you can never get it back."

Brittany took a small breath, "Who hurt you, Santana?"

Ducking her head for a moment, the brunette let out a dry chuckle. When she looked up at Brittany she offered her a small smile, "Some fucking ass. Doesn't matter any more."

Brittany's phone buzzed and they both jumped a little at the sound. Santana swallowed, pushing down all of the ill feelings she had bubbling up in her chest, and Brittany looked at her phone to keep from asking what was on the tip of her tongue.

She wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

"Rachel's in and I'm putting away my camera phone," she told Santana and made it obvious that she was putting her phone away. Santana flushed and appreciated that she was trying to lighten to mood. "She's going to text Quinn about the details and meet us there."

"Do you know if they're... like," Santana made a vague gesture with her hand and didn't finish her statement.

Brittany barely suppressed a giggle, "I don't know, what does _this_ mean?"

She repeated Santana's hand movement and smiled as the brunette blushed.

"You know what I'm trying to say," Santana shoved her hands back into her pockets. She was glad to get the conversation off of herself for a moment.

"I do," Brittany thought about everything Rachel had told her, "but I don't know any more than that they've been talking a lot lately, and had lunch a few days ago."

Santana nodded, not surprised that Quinn hadn't mentioned it. She hadn't exactly been forthright about this... thing between herself and Brittany. She was sure Quinn already knew anyway.

Brittany asked a timid question, "What about us?"

Santana looked up at Brittany, wordlessly asking her to continue because she couldn't quite find words at the moment.

In her silence, Brittany continued, "Is there any chance that we could..." she repeated the gesture again.

Santana smiled, reaching out to still Brittany's hand. She _almost_ hesitated to interlace their fingers, and they both knew it was the first time Santana had initiated contact like this. It made her feel brazen and excited. Brittany stepped a little closer, taking the action as an invitation.

"Brittany..." she took a moment to just feel the pale hand in hers, and Brittany allowed her time to find her words, "there are a lot of things we would have to take into consideration."

Brittany nodded, knowing it was true.

"Like your job," Santana continued, "I wouldn't want to do anything that might compromise your new position as a journalist. This feature... I don't want to ruin this opportunity for you."

"That's very kind Santana," Brittany tugged on the lapel of Santana's jacket lightly, "and I can say the same. I know things are... difficult for you at Clockwork, and the last thing I want to do is make it harder for you."

Santana dropped her eyes for a moment, "We couldn't—not at Clockwork. We can't—"

"Santana," Brittany's voice hushed her quietly, "I understand that there's a level of... compartmentalization, in your life."

The shorter woman let out a puff of laughter. She loved the feeling of Brittany's hand in hers, the other playing with her jacket. It was a closeness that Santana was quickly coming to be more than comfortable with.

"Your personal and professional lives don't mix," Brittany shrugged because it wasn't a big deal to her, "I get that, I think it's the best policy given our situation."

"Beyond that," Santana continued hesitantly, "you know that, I have a few... issues, that I'm working through."

"From your... past life?" Brittany traced the material of Santana's lapel until she touched one of the dark curls falling over Santana's shoulder.

"Yeah," Santana bit her lip, her thumb worked lightly over Brittany's knuckles.

"Well," she wrapped the strand of soft hair around her finger loosely. She wanted to get lost in this hair. "While I would love to learn about your past life, I'm more concerned about your current one... and if maybe, I could be a part of it."

Santana licked her lips and Brittany's eyes fell to watch. They lingered there, for a moment, reliving the moment in the dressing room, wondering if the rest of Santana's skin was as soft as the skin on her neck. She glanced up to meet Santana's brown eyes.

They were so dark... shifting back and forth between her own, calculating the risks, still so hesitant.

"I can't promise that it won't be complicated or... that I wont... mess this," Santana waved between them shyly, "up eventually."

There was so much she wanted to tell her, so much she wanted to admit too. She wanted to be worthy of the look Brittany was giving her.

"Let's just take things slow," the smile in Brittany's voice reassured Santana that things might just work out in their favor, "and see what happens, does that sound alright to you?"

"Yes," Santana's eyes dropped to her lips. She could feel Brittany's hand trace up her shoulder, her fingers running along the collar of her jacket until they were at the nape of her neck. Santana shivered at the sensation. "That sounds perfect."

It was instantaneous, the warm flush that seeped through Santana's body when the pale fingers finally took purchase on the skin of her neck. She could feel Brittany's breath on her cheek. Her head tilted up, this time guided by Brittany's gentle touch, Santana's eyes fluttered closed as Brittany closed the last of the distance and brushed her lips along her cheek. She placed a light, but lingering, kiss on the corner of Santana's mouth.

Santana took in a shaky breath through her nose, inhaling the sent of Brittany's shampoo. She was lightheaded and warm, and if she tilted her head just a little bit, she could kiss Brittany fully, but another part of her was scared. Scared to make the move, even now, frightened of how she felt. How badly she wanted this. How Brittany inspired such liberal notions in her head. She wanted to tell Brittany everything, she wanted to answer every question, speak every truth, hold nothing back...

And it scared her.

But right now, with these lips against the corner of her mouth... it was a small gesture of a promise. It wasn't a kiss that was supposed to represent how much Brittany wanted her physically or otherwise. Brittany was trying to show that she was, in fact, willing to take it slow. To treat Santana with the care and adoration that she deserved.

Brittany pulled away slowly, knowing she needed to stay in control, she couldn't afford to rush in this moment. Santana's eyes blinked up towards her own, a slow lopsided grin spread over her features and Brittany felt herself match the expression.

Santana was willing, to take it slow and... see what happens.

"We should..." Santana's blush was even cuter when she was standing so close, "go find the others."

Brittany stepped back, making a sweeping gesture to the doorway with one hand and kept Santana's hand in her other, "After you."

Santana rolled her eyes playfully but couldn't help but smile wider. She turned towards the door, tugging Brittany along.

* * *

><p>"Brittany, I don't understand your need to keep company with people adverse to my favorite restaurant," Rachel whispered to Brittany as they entered a small pizza parlor Quinn and Santana were fond of.<p>

"Santana has a peanut allergy," Brittany reminded her. "It's a medical condition, not an attitude problem."

Rachel chuckled, "Well, I supposed that's understandable."

Brittany shook her head, watching Rachel move to Quinn's side. She took the blonde's hand easily and said something under her breath that made Quinn blush. Brittany wanted to smile at how forward Rachel could be.

"What's the big deal about the restaurant she keeps going on about?" Santana appeared at Brittany's side, not even ashamed about overhearing the conversation.

"It's called, Grillan," Brittany hoped that she didn't ask who had the attitude problem. She knew Artie Abrams wasn't good dinner conversation. "It's a vegan roadhouse."

"Roadhouse as in steakhouse?"

"Yes."

"That's an oxymoron if I've ever heard one," Santana snorted.

"I think that's part of the charm," Brittany slipped her arm around Santana's as they followed their group deeper into the restaurant. "You don't like vegan food? Quinn said their vegan friendly pizza is great so I'm guessing you've chosen to never try it."

"No, I've never tried it, but I'll probably have to tonight. I've been dieting for a month to prep for that stupid photo shoot," Santana grumbled, "and I _had_ been looking forward to a grease induced coma via meat lover's pizza."

Brittany laughed, "Are you not going to order the pizza you want for Rachel's sake?"

"I'm sure Quinn would give me the stink eye the whole time if I did," Santana flushed a little at the way Brittany was pressed against her side, "so I'm not going to bother."

She wondered if they were acting too friendly with each other in mixed company, but she knew her friends wouldn't draw attention to it and was sure Brittany knew Rachel better than she did. It was a little odd to her to think that Brittany would be comfortable like this in front of her boss. Maybe she wasn't the only one that was prone to compartmentalization.

"How about I order it, that way Quinn can't say your being insensitive, and Rachel knows that I eat meat already," Brittany spoke into her ear so she wouldn't be heard by their friends. Santana shivered at the warm sensation of breath along her skin. "We could split it."

Santana blushed, giving the blonde next to her a sideways glance, "I'd like that."

They settled down around a table for six, Santana between Brittany and Kurt, facing Quinn who was between Tina and Rachel. Brittany and Quinn busied themselves by talking about the photo shoot with Rachel and catching her up on the event.

Santana listened to the way Brittany talked about it. An obvious amount of enjoyment in her voice as she spoke of the set and the productions. Santana was glad that Brittany hadn't been board out of her mind the entire time, or worse, hated it as much as she did. She didn't miss the way Brittany was subtly complimenting Tina's work, and how the photographer made it a point to tell Rachel that it was a pleasure having Brittany on the set. Santana was so glad that they got along. The ex-girlfriend versus new interest drama was not something she wanted to get involved in.

"Tina," Rachel smiled across the table at her, "how did you and Santana start working together? I hear Clockwork asks for you by name. That must be every photographer's dream."

Tina laughed, "Clockwork is a pretty large ticket for me yes, but Santana and I actually met in college. She's the one that got me my in at Clockwork."

"Oh? What college?"

Santana watched Brittany's eyes flicker to the photographer.

"UCLA, we all would have graduated together," she gestured to Santana and Quinn, "if Santana hadn't transferred to Berkeley a semester before."

She felt her stomach knot as Tina shared things she didn't realize were significant. Quinn spared Santana a concerned glance, but she was too busy watching Brittany's face to notice. She could see the line between her brows furrow in thought.

She turned to Santana, "UCLA, huh?"

Santana nodded slightly, wishing that feeling she had experienced in the gallery would come back, and she would feel like she could tell Brittany everything, but right now, she just wanted to lock it all down, keep it all safe. She never wanted to speak of it again.

"I hear it's nice there," Brittany took a sip of her beer, "Artie... always spoke very highly of it."

Santana's eyes fell to her nails, unsure of how to respond. Brittany watched her struggle with herself as the conversation moved on around them. Rachel was talking about NYU with Kurt. Brittany wasn't really paying attention. She wanted to ask. She really did, but she wouldn't. There was something about that time, the look in Santana's eye, when she talked about it.

"I told you before," Brittany spoke under her breath, so that Santana was the only one to hear, "I'm not going to pry, and I won't go any deeper than you're willing to let me in."

Santana felt an irrational prickle of tears threaten at the level of concern in Brittany's voice. She blinked them away, tightening her jaw to keep from biting her lip and showing weakness.

"Tell me this is off limits, and I won't go near it."

There it was, the out she had been hoping for. Santana stared at her nails and thought about what she really wanted.

Something inside her stirred, touched at Brittany's ability to be so accommodating, always thinking of her. Her comfort, her insecurities, her feelings. Brittany would ask nothing more than Santana was willing to give and that made Santana want to give it all.

She swallowed harshly, reaching over and taking Brittany's hand. She pulled it into her lap under the table and just held on for a moment.

Santana glanced up, unaware of the world around her, the people that might be listening, or her friends that might be watching, all she saw was Brittany, "I just need some time."

Brittany's hand tightened around hers and a reassuring smile graced her features, "I'll be here, when you're ready."

With that, she turned back to the rest of the table and casually integrated herself back into conversation. Santana watched her with a subtle awe. Brittany, was in fact, a people person. She knew when to push, when to let up, and she was comfortable talking to anyone and everyone. Santana sat next to her, a bundle of guarded nerves.

She wanted to be more like Brittany, easy going and friendly. Open and loving. She wanted to be a better person, someone Brittany deserved.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Thank you all so much for the reviews! It's so great that people are as excited about this story as I am, which makes this next part so hard, I'm not going to be able to update for two weeks. I hate it, this is going to kill me. I am very sorry.

Again, thank you for reading and reviewing and your wonderful support.

— Gorshenin.

* * *

><p>Her phone was ringing. Brittany balanced her knife on the cream cheese container and crossed into the living room with her bagel. She plopped onto the couch and picked her phone up from the coffee table.<p>

"Hello?"

_"Hey Brittany, it's Quinn."_

"Oh, hey," Brittany frowned into the receiver, wondering what reason Quinn would have to be calling her about an hour before they were supposed to be in for work. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

Quinn laughed lightly and it eased Brittany's worry,_ "No, it's just that Santana is taking the day off, so I just wanted to let you know before you came into Clockwork today."_

"Oh..." Brittany took a small nibble from her bagel still mildly concerned, "is she alright?"

_"Yeah, she's fine. She's just been up all night on a bit of a geek out. She was still awake when I woke up for work this morning and I just sent her to bed."_

Brittany's lips tugged into a smile, she could just see Santana in her basement working over her computer and listening to music. She found it charming that Santana let time get away from her to a point where she needed to be pulled away from her work and told to sleep.

_"She's going to be out until around ten,"_ Quinn continued, _"but she wanted me to ask if you would want to come over and go over her project with her?"_

"Really? Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose..."

_"No, no, please. She'd probably love to talk to someone about it, I stopped talking to her about her work a long time ago."_

"I would really like that actually."

_"Great, she'll text you when she finally rolls out of bed."_

They made polite farewells and Brittany took another bite of her bagel. She couldn't help but feel like this was coming at the perfect time. The past few days at Clockwork had been... interesting, to say the least. Brittany was honestly pretty proud of herself. She had been the picture perfect image of a professional. Always keeping a respectable distance, her eyes never lingered too long, her smiles were never anything that could be considered more than friendly.

Santana, who was an expert at putting up a front in the face of her coworkers, had played along expertly. Granted, she had been prone to blush a little more than usual, and tired to say in her office with Brittany and Kurt as often as possible. She had small moments, where she would intentionally keep Brittany at arms length, like when they were alone in the elevator, or in the computer lab. Brittany didn't take it personally, if anything she was flattered.

Because in those moments, when they had escaped from the rest of the Clockwork staff, Santana's eyes were the one's that had been lingering a little too long. There was a genuine attraction in those dark orbs. Brittany was looking forward to some time alone with the Latina, time where they didn't have to worry about prying eyes.

* * *

><p>Santana was sitting on the steps outside when Brittany arrive at the Lopez-Fabray home, sipping from a mug of coffee and reading a magazine. Brittany was willing to bet that it wasn't one that had her picture on it. She looked up with a smile when she heard Brittany's footsteps.<p>

"Are you ready to play hookey with me?" her eyes sparkled from behind her glasses.

"I can't think of a better way to spend my day," Brittany grinned and settled down next to the brunette on the steps. "What are you reading?"

"An old professor of mine had her dissertation published," Santana passed the article to the journalist who looked it over.

"Holly Holiday?" she squinted at the author, "is that pen name?"

Santana laughed, "No, that's her real name I promise. I thought it was funny when I first met her too."

"So these are the magazines you like reading," Brittany looked at the cover, "the boring ones without pictures or advertisements."

"Forgive me for being an academic," Santana rolled her eyes blithely.

"It's cute," Brittany smiled and tapped Santana's knee with the spine of the magazine.

Santana flushed, taking a sip of coffee to hide it.

"So tell me about your project," Brittany coaxed.

Santana didn't hesitate to go into a small explanation as they headed into the house and down the hall to the basement. Brittany followed Santana to the large string of desks and found Santana's work still spread over the desk space. Brittany looked over it curiously, she wanted to know what she was so excited about.

She picked up a few sheets of graphing paper, her eyes skimmed over the slanted scrawl that absolutely filled the pages. She lifted a finger and ran it over Santana's handwriting, the scribbles and sketches, small little arrows that connected one blurb to another. Santana's mind on paper was just as complicated as she was in person.

"It's an outline to my big project," Santana offered in explanation, she settled into her favorite stool and picked up some of the papers, using them to tap on the monitors. "These are the mockup ideas and a pseudocodes for what I have so far. I've been working on it all night."

Brittany sat down in the stool next to her and looked at the monitors. One held a few different windows that looked like blueprints, and the other looked like something out of the Matrix movies.

"How did you get into this?" Brittany asked abruptly, "I mean, I don't think I've ever asked."

"It was kind of simple actually," Santana shrugged, "I took an elective course at UCLA, at the time it was just another credit but... there was just something about it. Next semester I took another class, a little robotics class."

"I take it you liked the material?" Brittany settled into the stool next to Santana to listen.

"You have no idea," Santana's lips twitched into a bright smile, "and my professor, the one from the article, was _amazing_. The best teacher I've ever had in my entire life. She totally got me hooked on the whole thing."

Brittany's heart warmed to the soft excitement in Santana's voice, the light coming into her eyes. She gave the blonde a lopsided and bashful smile.

"Quinn thought I was insane," Santana sent Brittany an amused look, "I started working two jobs so I could afford to get myself a nice computer, Holly and I built it together from scratch. It was an obsession. I loved it."

"What were you originally studying?"

"Pre-med," she rolled her eyes at herself.

"Your father is a doctor," Brittany remembered aloud.

"How much do you know about my family?" Santana asked quietly, cautiously.

"Not much," Brittany admitted, "Santana Lopez was raised in Ohio, her father is a doctor at Lima Memorial. You mentioned that he remarried and that you have a stepmother and sister. That's all I know."

Santana knew all of that was true, "Where did you learn that much?"

"Wikipedia."

Santana look up from her work surprised, but when she found Brittany's smile she laughed.

"My Wikipedia page is actually really accurate."

"That's because there's nothing on it, and I'm willing to bet you're the reason for that," Brittany chuckled softly when Santana smirked. "Anyway, what did your family think about you changing your major?"

"When I finally switched my major," Santana shook her head, "my parents went bat-shit about it, cut all of my funding to the school, told me I was an idiot..."

She trailed off, tapping her forefinger lightly on the keyboard without pressing any keys. The light in her eyes had dimmed to a faint glower. Brittany knew she was back in that place, thinking about all the ways people had wronged her.

"I'm sorry, Santana."

She blinked up to Brittany's kind eyes, shaking the memory from her mind.

"It's nothing," she shrugged, refocusing on her work. "The student loans were worth it and they crawled back to make amends when I got the job at Clockwork. They just hadn't believed I could really do this."

Her eyes moved from the screens to the brunette, who looked ridiculously comfortable in her black flannel pants, gray thermal and with her feet propped up on a box under her desk. Her hair was damp from a recent shower and Brittany could smell the citrus in the air mixed with coffee and metal. She shifted a little closer. This woman was so capable, strong, and resilient. Even when she didn't look like the Face of Clockwork, she was still so impressive. She had been fighting to prove herself from the very beginning and Brittany didn't think she could admire her effort any more than she already did.

Brittany took a gamble and said, "It must feel nice to prove them wrong."

She hoped it didn't come across as insensitive, and she was glad that Santana snorted with a ghost of a smirk on her face, "You know, it really did."

* * *

><p>"So you don't mind getting your hands dirty?"<p>

Santana glanced down to her hands, riddled with a light coat of residue from the inside of the computer. "Um… no, I've chipped enough nails in these things to know it's pointless to keep a manicure."

Brittany smiled to herself and Santana noticed.

"What?" she quirked an eye brow, trying to act casual but her fingers were curling into fists self-consciously.

"Nothing," she shrugged coyly, "I just had an idea."

"About?"

"I owe you dinner," Brittany fingered the desktop. This was the first step, trying to navigate the tangle between a mutual attraction and maybe dating. She wanted to transition well, not to fast, not too slow. "From racquetball, remember?"

Santana kept her focus on the material in front of her so Brittany couldn't see the nervous glint in her eyes. Dinner with Brittany. Now that they were… going slow, did this count as a date? Was Brittany asking her out on a date? Suddenly the idea of a candle light dinner with romantic music in the background was more daunting than another photo shoot.

She licked her lips, trying to calm down, "And dinner would include getting my hands dirty?"

Brittany tried to look innocent, "Well, maybe not dinner, but after dinner, yes."

"What did you have in mind?" Santana asked, her curiosity was slowly easing the anxiety about a possible date.

"For dinner?" Brittany had wanted to surprise the woman, that was always part of the charm, but she knew that Santana needed to know what to expect, she needed to feel like she had a certain amount of control in the situation. "There's a little sushi place I know of, not too far from my apartment. Kurt told me you like sushi."

Santana nodded, "I love sushi. What else did he tell you?"

Brittany laughed, "Nothing, I just wanted to know if you had a seafood allergy too."

"That would suck," Santana chuckled. "The peanut thing is already a pain in the ass."

Brittany watched her continue to work, a moment passed before she asked, "So can I take you to dinner?"

Santana glanced over to the blonde. Sitting there in a stool, her eyes looked just as hopeful as the first time Brittany was down here, asking if she would agree to do the feature. Santana knew she couldn't say no.

"Of course Britt."

* * *

><p>Sitting on a bench outside of the restaurant, with her legs crossed, Brittany's toe bobbed up and down in an anxious twitch.<p>

Brittany couldn't remember the last time she was this nervous about going to dinner with someone. She supposed that was a good thing, because it meant she had never cared so much about it going well. She had to admit that she truly did care for Santana. Maybe more than anyone she's ever almost dated before. Somewhere down the line she had become emotionally invested in the woman, and she loved the feeling. She loved looking forward to seeing her at work, she loved working to get to know her. She loved piecing her together. She loved that Santana didn't make it easy for her.

She nearly jumped to her feet when someone joined her on the bench.

Santana chucked at her flinch, "You alright there?"

"Yeah," Brittany blushed, her racing heart flooding her cheeks with blood. "You just scared me a little."

"I'm sorry," Santana brushed her bangs out of her face and adjusted her glasses slightly. It was and anxious habit and knowing she was just as nervous gave Brittany a slight boost of confidence. "You look very nice, Brittany."

The words were nice to hear, and even though Brittany had advised them both to wear something causal with jeans, she could still hear the earnest tone in Santana's voice.

"Thank you," Brittany smiled sweetly, her eyes ran over Santana's own outfit appreciatively, "I can say the same, plus, I adore your glasses."

Santana flushed and leaned back on the bench to fake nonchalance. She crossed her legs to mirror Brittany's posture and licked her lips, "Is it weird that we spent all day together but for the three hours between you leaving my house, and now... I've missed you."

Brittany's stomached flipped, and her head ducked to hide her blatantly pleased smile. She coughed into her fist and pretended that Santana wasn't watching her with an amused but curious expression. She met her eyes to make sure she knew her words were sincere, "I've missed you too Santana."

Santana would have been content to sit on the bench an talk for the rest of the night, but she knew Brittany had other plans for them and wouldn't want to disappoint. She stood, and offered Brittany her hand, "Shall we?"

Brittany didn't hesitate to take her hand and let Santana help her to her feet. Unsure of how much contact was too much right off the bat, she went to release the brunette's hand. She was pleasantly surprised when Santana just squeezed her fingers gently, silently asking if this was okay. If they could hold hands like this. Brittany was more than happy to oblige, and led Santana into the restaurant, not bothering to hide her smile this time.

* * *

><p>Dinner was a quiet affair. Santana was the one asking most of the questions this time, about Brittany's family and her life before college. While it might have seemed like the conversation was probing, Brittany was glad for it. She knew not pushing her to reveal anything personal in an already nervous environment would help Santana relax.<p>

"I've never actually been to Philadelphia," Santana mused. "I bet it can get colder than Ohio."

"Yeah," Brittany laughed, "all that lake effect snow from Canada, but I loved it there. We lived just outside the city and it was a great place to grow up. Perfect mix of a small town feel and access to a big city."

"I still claim that Ohio is a pit," Santana rolled her eyes. "I could not wait to get out of that hell hole."

"Is that why you chose UCLA?" Brittany asked delicately over her food, "it's on the opposite side of the country?"

Santana snorted, "God yes. When I was looking at colleges, the farther the better."

Brittany wanted to as why, was it because of her family situation? Her father's remarriage? She had overheard Santana talking to Kurt about planning a long weekend so she could visit her family and meet her stepsister's fiance. She could tell Santana still wasn't looking forward to it when she was making plans.

"Did you always want to be a journalist?" Santana asked, "You know that I changed my major, what about you?"

Brittany laughed, "Actually, before I got to college, I wanted to be a news anchor."

"Like on TV?" Santana smirked as she brought her glass to her lips.

"Yeah," Brittany flushed lightly, "but I figured out that I'm a horrible impromptu speaker, and to make things worse, I'm dyslexic, so it's really hard for me to read off of teleprompters."

Santana's lips tugged down into a sympathetic frown, "I'm sorry about that, Britt."

"It's alright," she shrugged lightheartedly. "Its kind of a blessing in disguise. I had to do so many reading and writing exercises as a kid, and through high school, that I became pretty skilled with a pen. It's just when I try to read aloud quickly that it all gets jumbled."

"That would suck," Santana was thinking of her work and all the coding she did. How annoying it would be to misplace a number or letter and mess up an entire program.

"I don't know if you noticed, but when I was pitching to Clockwork," Brittany scratched her nose with a blush, "I didn't look at any of the displays I was putting up on the projector. I have to memorize it all because if I try to read it when I'm nervous like that, I'll get it all messed up."

"You blew me away in that meeting," Santana said honestly, "it really gave me a some confidence about getting my hopes up about this feature. I know you're not going to let us down Britt."

Brittany bit her lip, "I'm going to do my best Santana."

"You've already done so much for me," Santana licked her lips, a shy quality taking over her voice. "It's just really nice to have someone completely objective take you seriously for once. Kurt and Quinn can tell me they think I'm great till they turn blue in the face, but like, they're my friends. Nothing against them, but they're kind of expected to say stuff like that."

Brittany smiled with her eyes, knowing how much it scared Santana to have people tell her she's worth someone just to be polite.

"At the convention... when you told me that I knew what I was talking about," Santana's brow knitted as she tried to choose her words, "you know you made me cry, right?"

"I kind of got the hint that it was coming," Brittany nodded slightly. "That wasn't my intention."

"I know," Santana shook her head as she chuckled, "I was already in such a mood, and you were... you just were everything I needed in that moment."

She was everything she had ever needed. She was kind and attentive, patient and understanding. Brittany was someone Santana could grow to depend on, to live for. She could see it all play out in her head, and it all started with just an innocent moment, when Brittany took her seriously when no one else would.

Santana might have fallen for her in that very moment.

* * *

><p>They walked a little further down the street, talking in voices that were only meant for each other. The night was crisp, and the streetlights were a pleasant version of romantic. Brittany's arm was slipped around hers and Santana loved feeling her close like this. She vaguely wondered where they were going, but didn't want to ask, she was comfortable having Brittany lead her into whatever might come next. Santana's eye caught the display in a large window, and Brittany paused at her side to let her look.<p>

"What do you think?" Brittany asked, there was something more to the question that just a curious inquiry so Santana quirked an eyebrow and took her time to answer.

"That's actually kind of cool," Santana leaned closer to the display window. "Is that what this store sells? Fancy vases?"

"_Handmade_ fancy vases," Brittany smiled with that same mischievous glint to her tone.

It was enough to prompt Santana's question, "Why are you smiling like that?"

Brittany rummaged through her purse and pulled out a set of keys, "Because it's about time I taught you something."

* * *

><p>"My friend, Trent, owns the shop," Brittany explained as she locked the door behind them. "Him and a few others make the vases, cups, glasses, plates, pots and other stuff. Everything you see on the walls."<p>

Brittany crossed to the desk and flipped on the display lights in the empty store. The dim glow lit the cases and shelves that lined the walls. Santana looked around, the displays were beautiful. Handcrafted ceramics, clay pottery, and glass works.

"His boyfriend does all the glass," Brittany followed Santana as she looked around. "It's really pretty, but I haven't been able to learn about that one just yet."

"You know how to make some of this stuff?" Santana gestured to a display of ceramic cookware.

"I used to work here," Brittany shrugged coyly. Santana sent her a surprised look and Brittany laughed. "It's pretty hard to find a job as a writer straight out of school, I was interning at a newspaper down the road and noticed the help wanted sign on my way home."

She took Santana by the hand and lead her deeper into the store, past the customer area and into the back.

"I worked the register on weekends," Brittany continued, a bashful smile playing on her lips, "stock and janitor stuff at night after I finished up my intern hours."

Santana was impressed, but she didn't know what impressed her more, Brittany's work ethic or her ability to make the best of a situation.

"Trent pulled me into the back one day and started teaching me how to work with the clay," Brittany came to a stop and Santana looked around the room, full of tools she didn't recognize, materials that were foreign to her. When her eyes finally came back to Brittany the blonde was already looking at her, hopeful excitement written all over her face. "What do you say? Want to get your hands dirty?"

Santana smiled, "I'm not the most creative person in the world, but sure, I'll give it a try."

Brittany's smile was worth any sort of embarrassment she might feel later, if it turned out that she didn't have a creative bone in her body and was beyond help. The blonde ducked down, giving Santana a chaste kiss on the cheek in thanks for playing along. Santana flushed and scuffed her shoe along the tiled floor.

Brittany moved to a drawer and smiled over her shoulder, "I haven't done this in a while so don't expect me to be particularly awesome at it either. Put this on."

Brittany handed the brunette a blue smock with red trimming. Santana shrugged it on and watched Brittany do the same as she flitted about the room, gathering materials and preparing their work stations.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she shuffled closer to the blonde.

"I got this," Brittany smiled, happy to be back in a familiar element. "I had Trent set everything up for me before he closed up, so it's not much to do but pull everything out. Pick one of those stools and sit down."

Santana followed the directions and watched Brittany with a interested light. It was actually hard to look away, standing at the counter in those heels. Santana's eyes rolled up her legs, appreciating the fit of her jeans. How adorable the smock looked on her, with her hair pulled up into a sloppy bun, a few curls falling loose around her face.

When her eyes finally drifted to Brittany's face she flushed when her blue eyes were looking back at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, dropping to her gaze to her hands in her lap.

"Don't worry," Brittany laughed, moving a pile of clay onto the turn table in front of the brunette, "I like it when you stare."

Santana flushed deeper, glad that Brittany had to go back to the counter for her own clay so she could have a minute to breathe.

"Alright," she settled down into the stool next to Santana and smiled brightly, "let's get started."

Santana watched Brittany move her hands manipulating the clay, using the foot peddle to spin the table to help create a shape. She followed her lead, making sure to listen carefully to Brittany's instructions and tips, but for the most part, Brittany let Santana learn by example. Her dark eyes were inquisitive, brow knitted in effort, one side of her lips tucked down cutely. Brittany knew Santana was intelligent, she probably didn't need much direction.

"How do I make it do that," Santana asked, watching Brittany's hands.

"Here," Brittany leaned over and placed her hands carefully on Santana's, guiding them into the proper position to manipulate the material and achieve the effect she wanted.

Santana licked her lips, a strand of Brittany's hair was tickling her cheek. She felt like she was underwater, Brittany's words muffled and lost between the warm heat against her hands and the smell of her shampoo. It was a nice feeling, working the material in her hands, with Brittany's subtle guidance.

"You got it?" Brittany asked quietly next to her.

Warm breath tickled her temple and Santana nodded because she couldn't quite form a coherent thought. Brittany hesitated for just a moment, there in Santana's space, it would be so easy to duck her head and steal a kiss. She wished she knew how fast was too fast. Deciding to not try her luck, Brittany pressed her lips softly into Santana's hair. She heard Santana's small intake of breath, and could practically feel the heat radiating from her face. Brittany settled back into her stool and took her own project into her hands.

Santana threw her focus into her craft, trying to quell the pounding in her ears, the blood pooling in her cheeks... in other parts of her body. She didn't know how Brittany did it, but she made it so easy to let loose, feel safe, and just want to open up. In moments like this, when it was just the two of them, two people and their feelings for each other... Santana didn't want to take things slow. She wanted Brittany to take those clay covered hands and work her body the way she was working that clay.

She took a calming breath and sent Brittany a smile when the blonde caught her eye. Take it slow. There was no need to rush. Just take it slow.

* * *

><p>Brittany came back in from another room, "They'll hang out there until Trent comes in tomorrow morning and puts them in the kiln."<p>

Santana turned from the sink where she had been washing her hands. She watched Brittany pull the smock off. It was hard not to notice the way the material tugged her shirt up slightly, the sliver of pale flesh that was revealed in the motion.

"Ah," Brittany laughed, as she pulled the material over her head, her hair had fallen into her face. She puffed a breath, trying to get the blonde locks away from her eyes. "Can you? My hands are still covered in clay."

Santana stepped forward, running her hands over her jeans to make sure they were dry before reaching up. She caught the soft hair in her fingers, brushing it gently back to the side that it usually fell. Brittany's eyes fluttered closed as the fingers grazed her forehead.

The fingertips continued through her hairline and behind her ears, thumbs grazing her cheeks lightly. Brittany opened her eyes and felt her breath catch in her throat. Santana's eyes were so dark, flickering between her own and her lips. Just the thought that they might kiss made Brittany lick her lips and the grip of Santana's fingertips twitched into something a little firmer at the sight of it.

Again, Santana found herself on her toes. There was something in her chest, connected to her pounding heart, drawing her up, forward and closer to the woman in front of her. She curled her fingers, coaxing the Brittany just a little closer, just close enough to—

The smock top slipped out of Brittany's hand and fell to the ground unnoticed, all she could feel was the warm lips against hers.

Their eyes closed together, their bodies gravitated closer naturally.

Brittany might have forgotten how to breathe, all she knew was that Santana was kissing her. Her lips pressed against such a delicate bit of flesh. She kiss Santana tenderly, and with as much care as she could. She felt the hands on either side of her face draw her in deeper, a tongue slide across her bottom lip. Slowly and gently they kissed, lips melding, hearts pounding, breathe running away from them.

Santana pulled back and Brittany whimpered quietly, her fists clenching. She wanted nothing more than to bury her hands in Santana's dark hair, keep her close, kiss her again, but her hands were still covered in clay and she couldn't push to fast.

Santana's eyes blinked open as she fell back onto her heels. A deep flush was already creeping under her skin. She watched Brittany open her eyes, a delighted smile gracing her features.

"I never told you," Santana whispered, "those things you said... in the dressing room."

Brittany waited with a kind patience for her to continue, actively keeping herself from leaning down and stealing back those lips.

"They really—" Santana bit her lip and took a small breath, a shy smile playing on her lips. "It meant a lot to me Brittany, and I'm... not very good at words like this, but I just wanted you to know that."

Brittany smiled warmly, feeling a bubbling sensation in her chest from being able to make Santana this happy. She leaned down, and Santana met her half way for another kiss. Soft and warm and neither woman needed anything more in the moment, perfectly content to be with each others company and a few, wonderful kisses.


	16. Chapter 16

When Brittany made it into Clockwork, she was surprised by a few different things. First, Santana had beaten her to work. She was standing in Brittany's usual spot near the front desk, balancing gracefully on her heels, her eyes focusing on the tablet in her hands. Brittany watched her fingers work efficiently along the screen, typing one handed, opening files, enlarging displays. Santana had such nimble fingers.

She tried not to think of the things she could do with those fingers.

The second thing she noticed was that she didn't realize how much she missed Santana until she was only five feet away and it was still too far. She closed the rest of the distance, careful to keep a professional buffer between them, and smiled when Santana looked up without prompt.

"Hey," Santana smiled, closing the cover of her tablet and tucking it under her arm.

"Hey," Brittany echoed and passed Santana's usual coffee to her.

"Thanks, Britt."

It was a brief touch, just a trail of a fingertip along her thumb, but Brittany's pulse fluttered. She knew the contact had been on purpose. Santana had always been too careful about keeping a professional distance to let something like that slip. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too broadly, and the glimmer in Santana's eyes told her she understood. The Latina tilted her head towards the elevators and they stepped towards them in unison.

Santana could safely say that she hadn't noticed a single person in the lobby that wasn't Brittany S. Pierce. She didn't feel the wandering eyes, or the lingering gazes. All she cared about was the shy glances from that beautiful blonde next to her. It was difficult to keep the giddy smile off her face, and she was grateful to finally duck into the maintenance hall for the privacy it offered.

She looked over, and caught Brittany's eye as she did the same. They shared a blushing smile and wondered how they were going to keep this up.

"How long have you been in the lab?"

Santana's eyes blinked curiously, "How did you know I've been in the lab?"

Brittany shrugged, a stray thought in the back of her head told her that they were walking slower than usual down this hallway, probably to conserve the time they had alone.

"Your sleeves are rolled up."

"You could tell I've been in the lab by my shirtsleeves?" Santana quirked an eyebrow and didn't believe it.

Brittany glanced at the sleeves in question, rolled snugly around Santana's elbows. Naturally, Brittany's focus moved over the rest of her outfit. She hadn't seen Santana in those heels before, the pencil skirt was flattering, and Brittany just loved that vest, it accentuated everything... perfectly. She was just glad Santana was too busy punching in the code to the elevators to notice her staring.

"I don't know another reason you would come to work early," she mused aloud.

Santana laughed, "You're right."

"What are you working on?" Brittany asked as they crossed the threshold and entered the elevator. "Your big project?"

"Yeah," Santana's face lit up as she said it. "I had this thought last night and had to get it out as soon as possible."

"You should have called me," Brittany almost pouted, scuffing her pump across the floor, "I would have come in with you."

"I've been here since five," Santana chuckled and hoped she didn't look like she was running on four hours of sleep. "There was no way I was going to wake you up at four in the morning because I need to get to the lab."

Brittany frowned lightly, "I'm being serious, Santana."

Santana marveled at how small this elevator felt now. With Brittany so close, admitting that she would crawl out of bed at an ungodly hour in the morning just to watch her tinker in a lab. It was more than she had expected, she wasn't used to people wanting to be with her when she was working. She knew that it wasn't the most interesting thing for other people, and she normally lost herself in the work to be able to hold a decent conversation. It was obvious Brittany wanted to be with her, just for the sake of her company and Santana felt her heart warm at the thought.

"I will next time," Santana nodded softly, "I promise."

"Thank you," Brittany smiled over her coffee as the elevator dinged.

* * *

><p>They settled into Santana's favorite work station and Brittany pulled out her notebook as she logged back into her computer. The women started their work routines, Brittany asking questions while Santana typed. It was easy and comfortable in a way that Santana had never expected it to be. Brittany was about to ask another question when a small buzzing noise rang through the lab.<p>

It was Santana's cell phone, and the Latina was too caught up in her work to realize that reaching into her bra to pull out the device might not be the most professional thing in the entire world. Brittany bit her lip, trying to keep from laughing as Santana answered the phone.

"Hello?" Santana balanced the phone between her cheek and her shoulder as her hands worked the keyboard on the desktop. "No, I'm on the twelfth floor. Right. Okay."

She hung up, and Brittany asked, "Is someone joining us?"

"Mike and Sam are on their way down. We have some last minute details of their project to work out. This convention really caught us off guard," she slipped her phone back into her shirt. Her eyes shifted over to Brittany's amused expression and she flushed, "This skirt doesn't have any pockets and I can't wear a blazer with this vest."

"I wasn't judging," Brittany put her hands up with a smile, "and I really like your outfit, so if that's the sacrifice you have to make, I'm totally okay with that."

Santana dropped her eyes back to her work, the blush on her cheeks a little darker.

"I know you don't want to hear it," Brittany offered softly, keeping her eyes resolutely on Santana's face, "but you could totally model professionally if you didn't already have an awesome job."

Santana chuckled dryly, "Then it's a good thing I love my job."

"But you don't," Brittany fidgeted with the coffee in her hands.

It was difficult at times, to interview Santana. If it was anyone else she wouldn't hesitate to ask a question on her mind, she would jump at the chance, but now... she didn't want to upset her. She didn't want to pry. Brittany knew it wasn't professional, and it could impact the outcome of her feature so she knew she had to continue to tread the thin line between nosy and professional.

"Santana, you might enjoy what you _do_ on a rare occasion in a computer lab, like right now... or in your basement, but you don't love your job."

She watched her dark eyes scan the room around her. Brittany wondered if she liked what she saw.

"Okay, so maybe I don't love my _job_, per se," Santana shrugged. Her voice had a mildly sarcastic tone to it, "Maybe I wish I had never accepted the position as department head, maybe some days I want to crawl into my basement like a little troll and live there for the rest of my life…"

Brittany watched her place her hands on the edge of the desk, grounding herself to this reality. She sighed, her words softer, "But that wouldn't make me happy, Brittany."

"What would make you happy?"

Santana glanced at her, as if she had never contemplated the question before, and maybe she hadn't.

"I just want some respect," she frowned at how self-serving that sounded.

"San—"

"I _know,"_ Santana cut her off gently with imploring eyes, "I know the cliche advice to people like me; stop seeking people's approval. I should be content to know that I kick ass at my job, and screw everyone else. I shouldn't care about how everyone thinks I'm just a pretty face. I just need to get over it."

Santana trailed off, thinking back to how many times Quinn, Tina, and Kurt had said those words to her.

"But I can't, it's not in me to roll over and just accept this. Call me petty, call me conceited, say what you will. I just—I wish people knew how much I've done for this company. Everyone want's credit for their work, you know? That's in human nature."

Brittany had to agree with that.

"Why did you agree to start the marketing campaign?" Brittany had been wondering that question since she got here.

"It's complicated," Santana started, licking her lips. Her eyes focused darkly on the screen in front of her.

"Jesse St. James was the one that approached you about it?"

"Yeah," Santana rolled her eyes sharply, "it was all his idea."

"But you didn't want to do it, did you?"

"God no," she scoffed, frowning at the memory, "but the way they come at you about that kind of thing... they always make it into an offer you can't refuse."

"He's blackmailing you."

Santana froze for a moment before her jaw clicked shut. Her eyebrows furrowed in a small expression of surprised and Brittany knew she hadn't expected her to say that.

"Why would you think that?" she asked quietly in a guarded voice. "Did you hear something?"

"No one told me or anything," Brittany held her gaze, being honest, "it was just a question."

"It sounded like a statement," Santana frowned. Had she given that impression?

"Then is it true?"

Brittany's question was soft and genuinely concerned, the tone and sincerity broke through the last of her defenses. Santana ran her hands over her face, pushing her hair behind her ears, and letting out a breath of a harsh laugh.

"Yes."

She didn't understand how the blonde was able to get her to talk about this kind of thing so easily. She's never told anyone but Quinn that. Maybe it was just easier to admit to things like that in a 'yes or no' format. She probably never would have brought it up without a prompt. Just the idea of her situation made her feel so vulnerable, so weak. It was embarrassing and something she hoped Brittany didn't hold against her.

She could feel the blue eyes on her, always so patient, always so curious. She waited for the next question, the obvious one. The question anyone else would ask in that situation, but it never came. Instead, Brittany reached over. Slowly, cautiously, taking Santana's hand and squeezing it lightly. She wasn't going to ask that obvious question, because she knew it wasn't the right time. Santana wasn't ready.

Santana was about to say that she appreciated it, but stopped when the door opened. Their hands parted regretfully, both women taking up their work smoothly.

Mike and Sam walked into the lab, offering Brittany a polite good morning before Santana made them jump right into business. Brittany wasn't surprised that she was taking the opportunity to avoid talking about Jesse St. James.

She watched the people of Clockwork go about their business. Brittany watched them work, hovering over computers and Sam's notebook. It was obvious that Sam had adopted Mike's understated respect for Santana. He knew when to defer to her. He made sure to listen to her entire statement and not interrupt. She wondered if he had learned from Mike, or if he would have offered Santana that simple respect anyway.

"Have you two hashed out the speaking parts of your presentation?" Santana asked them while she squinted at a computer screen.

"We finished it last night," Mike nodded.

"You're comfortable in front of crowds, Evans?" she had seen Mike present on multiple occasions and had full confidence in his abilities, she just hoped that Sam was up to par.

Sam nodded quickly, "I am. Mike and I have already rehearsed a few times too."

"That's good," Santana stepped back from the desk when she was finished with her final edits. She moved around the men still working to casually lean against the desk next to Brittany. She was still about half a foot away, but the idea that she could reach out and touch the brunette made Brittany smile a little.

Santana crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for Mike and Sam to finish their work. She glanced over to the blonde, a stray thought passing into her consciousness.

"Are you coming to the convention?" she asked sort of quietly, she knew Sam and Mike could hear her, but she wanted to know the answer right now.

Brittany looked confused, "Why wouldn't I?"

"Orbit will be showcasing too," Santana explained and watched the realization dawn on Brittany's face.

"Right," she licked her lips, but it only took a moment to make up her mind. "I'll be there Santana, I couldn't let that get in the way of the feature."

Santana nodded slowly, biting the inside of her cheek, "You know you really don't have to. I don't want to put you in that position."

Brittany smiled warmly, "Please, trust me. I want to be there. I might have to avoid Artie, but I'll be there."

"Our displays are never near each other," Santana added, "so hopefully it wont be too hard. I'm just worried that he might come looking for trouble."

Brittany thought it was something Artie might do and was curious if Santana knew that or if it was just a concerned guess. She still needed to find out why they hated each other so much, but the more she got to know Santana... the more she almost dreaded finding out. She got the feeling that whatever happened wasn't pretty.

"Even if he does," Brittany assured her playfully, trying to lighten the mood, "I can handle him."

Santana laughed, sending her a smirk, "I believe it."

* * *

><p>After, grudgingly, being pulled away from the lab by Kurt to attend that morning's COG, Santana was locked in her office to tie up the loose ends before the convention. Kurt and Quinn were running down to the site to make sure everything was in order. Brittany sat at the desk next to Santana's, typing steadily and glancing at her notebook every now and then. Santana briefly wondered what she was writing. She knew it was about her and that was kind of unsettling, but the soft smile Brittany was wearing as she typed put her at ease.<p>

It was nice, to work in the company of people working. Every now and then she could look up, and find a reason to smile. She didn't feel the usual tension in her shoulders when she was thinking about deadlines, or personnel assignments. She spun a pen between her fingers as she watched Brittany flip through the pages of her notebook.

"Is that notebook just for your work?" she asked curiously. In all honestly she thought notebooks were obsolete. She preferred to use a tablet or computer when she could. Her handwriting had certainly suffered for it.

Blue eyes glanced up at her and a small, bashful, smile spread over Brittany's face. "Um... not really. I only keep one notebook for everything until it's full. I can be kind of an airhead sometimes, so I do the whole grocery list thing religiously. That's why there are so many pages ripped out. Plus, I pull out all the stuff from stories I didn't really care about."

Santana sent her a look, surprised that she would say she didn't care about a story. Brittany understood and grinned, "Don't get me wrong, I care about my writing, but that story about the closing bakery meant more to me than the mayor approving a budget for new overpasses."

"I get that," Santana nodded thoughtfully. "I kind of do the same thing, but all my important stuff goes on a password encrypted external hard drive."

Brittany laughed, "That's kind of the same thing."

Santana smiled, it was becoming a habit at the sound of Brittany's laughter.

"Besides, I thought you handled that piece very well," Santana's eyes focused on her pen to hide the shy quality of her words. "Given how dry the material was, you did a great job with it. That little joke at the end, about being spacious and roomy, and the Homeless Renters Association gave them a four out of five, I swear I nearly choked on my coffee I was laughing so hard."

Brittany's eyebrows shot up, "You read that?"

Santana nodded softly, glancing at Brittany with hesitant eyes, "I've read a lot of your work actually."

If she thought about it, Brittany shouldn't have been surprised. Santana was hardly the person that would let someone write about her life story without knowing them as an author first.

"So you read the bit I did about the last convention," Brittany asked needlessly.

"I have a copy at my place, remember?" Santana chuckled.

"But that doesn't mean you read it," Brittany continued. She just needed to hear it, she shamelessly wanted Santana's approval.

"You wouldn't be here if I hadn't loved it," she caught Brittany's eyes and spoke sincerely.

Brittany fingered the notebook in her hands, "That really means a lot to me, Santana. I still have my notes from that night."

"Really?" her eyes focused on the notebook, she wouldn't ask, but she wanted to read them. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

Brittany could her see her curiosity plain as day and chucked, waving the notebook teasingly, "You want to see them?"

Santana licked her lips, her eyes shifting from Brittany's face to the notebook in her hands. "I wouldn't want to—"

Brittany was already on her feet, cutting off Santana's polite refusal. She moved around the desks until she was standing next to the woman in her chair. She leaded easily against Santana's desk and flipped through the pages of the book until she got to their first interview. The first time they met.

"Here you go," she held out the book, "it's pretty straight forward, you can probably remember all of the questions I asked you. Anything not in here is on the tape recorder I used."

Santana had forgotten about that tape recorder. She reached out and took the book from Brittany, sending her one more questioning glance to ask for permission and the blonde's reassuring smile was enough.

She found two different colors of ink. Her name and job title was printed neatly across the top of the page and all the questions Brittany had planed to ask were written in blue. Everything else was written in black ink. She recognized the questions, the responses jotted down in a shorthand that Santana didn't quite understand. She noticed a few questions and answers squeezed in at the end of the second page.

She read over Brittany's work, marveling at her script-like handwriting, the scratch outs and rewrites to get her answers exactly right. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Brittany lift herself up so she was sitting on the desk, her legs crossed easily.

Keeping her eyes on the notebook, Santana reached out and placed her hand over Brittany's on the edge of the desk. It was just a moment before Brittany turned her hand over and pulled Santana's closer. Much like the time in Tina's studio, Brittany manipulated Santana's hand to the position of her liking.

She smiled when Santana's eyes, still focusing on the notebook, fluttered lightly when she ran her nail's over the woman's palm. Tracing the small creases to the pulse of her wrist and back down to the tips of her fingers. The small digits would flinch and curl as she moved along their ridges and groves.

Brittany pressed her palm flush against Santana's and her heart fluttered when the darker fingers curled up to interlace with her own. Santana's thumb brushed back and forth over her skin as she continued to read. Brittany didn't try to hid her smile, this was perfect. Sharing her work with someone she cared about while they held her hand, this was more than she could ever want.

Santana's phone buzzed and she balanced the notebook in her lap so she could slip her hand into her collar and pull it out. Brittany still couldn't keep from finding it amusing. It was a quick phone call, barely a minute long, and the phone was settled back into the mysterious wonders of Santana's bra. Brittany's eyes lingered a little too long in the area and Santana squeezed her hand to get her to look up.

She flushed deeply and was about to apologize when Santana spoke first, "I have to run to Q's office."

"Alright," Brittany nodded, watching her stand, placing the notebook on her desk and glancing at her hand, still between Brittany's.

She lifted her free hand to join them, marveling at the soft skin and ivory complexion. She hadn't planned it, but something about Brittany checking her out, sitting on her desk, and holding her hand made her face flush and her heart hammer. She squeezed their hands together again and before she lost her nerve, leaned forward to press their lips together.

It was chaste, and sweet, and a huge violation of her _not at Clockwork_ policy, but she didn't care. The pleased smile on Brittany's face as she pulled away made it so worth it.

"I'll be right back," she breathed, stepping away from the desk to head to the door. Brittany watched her go, her eyes staying on the door well after Santana had walked through it.

* * *

><p>Brittany observed the convention staff work with a giddy interest. She stood off to the side in a large event hall as exhibits, displays, and booths were erected around her. Somewhere to her left the Clockwork crew was setting up their final touches, Quinn was standing among them, making sure everything was exactly how it was supposed to be. Mike and Sam were with Santana setting up for their first showing. She couldn't wait for the convention tomorrow.<p>

As an excuse to get out of the office, Santana had taken her down to the convention site to see what the set up was all about. Brittany was glad thankful that she had, something about watching the entire area transform was kind of exciting. She moved quietly though the arena, passing people carrying tables and chairs, until she was at Quinn's side.

She smiled at Brittany and finished her conversation with the man next to her, "Brittany, I'm glad you're here."

"Can I do anything for you?" Brittany asked earnestly. Quinn looked a little stressed and she wanted to help any way she could.

"There's just one thing," Quinn bit her lip, frowning, "I was recommended for a conference in San Antonio."

"That's awesome, Quinn," Brittany smiled, knowing it was another step forward in her power battle with Jesse St. James. "Congratulations."

"Yeah," she ran her hand through her hair, "they don't normally send PR to this thing, so it's a big deal that I'm going. It's just that, I have to be on a plane tonight and it's a week long."

"You're going to miss the convention," Brittany understood the dilemma. Santana and Quinn had been quite the pair when she met them at the last convention.

"Exactly," she shook her head, looking around, "I've never missed one before, and while I'm sure Santana will be fine without me, I'm just..."

"Worried?" Brittany offered for her, and Quinn let out a short laugh.

"Yeah, I'm a little worried," she lowered her voice, "San's only supposed to have a few showings since Mike's taking the lead, but it's never easy for her. You know what I mean."

"Does she know?"

Quinn winced, "I haven't told her yet, I just found out myself. I'll probably tell her when we leave the convention center."

"What can I do?" Brittany's eyes looked across the room, falling on the brunette in question.

She didn't have to search to find her. She had been subconsciously aware of Santana's location in the room ever since she was shooed away to see the rest of the arena. She might have walked to the other side of the building, but that didn't mean she didn't look back every now and then to make sure Santana was where she had left her, helping Sam and Mike set up their display.

"Just help Kurt try to keep her calm," Quinn chuckled dryly. "Honestly, she might be perfectly fine because she wouldn't want to have a moment in front of you."

Brittany's brow furrowed, "I wouldn't think any less of her."

"I know," Quinn assured her, "but she has more pride than she can handle sometimes."

"I'll try to take care of her," Brittany licked her lips, she would have to make sure Artie didn't cause a scene.

"It's after the convention that I'm worried about," Quinn admitted. "She always takes them so personally, and it's so easy for them to get her down for the next few days after."

Brittany frowned, a part of her heart aching, "I'll keep that in mind."

"You know, this feature is probably the best thing that's happened to her in a while," Quinn met Brittany's eyes with a kind seriousness. "I can't remember the last time she's been brought this far out of her shell."

"It's probably the best thing that's ever happened to me," Brittany answered earnestly, a light heat rising in her cheeks. "In general, not just professionally."

Quinn smiled, "Why don't you go see what she's up to, I bet she's getting annoyed with the boys by now."

Brittany laughed, because she wasn't sure if Quinn was joking or not, and started walking towards their station. She found Santana on her toes, trying to plug a cord into the back of a mounted speaker but the device was a little too high. On the other side of the stage Mike and Sam were doing the same thing, only with a little more grace. She moved with a subtle confidence, making sure Santana's eyes fell on her before stepped too close.

"Here, let me get that," she placed a hand on the small of her back, the other reached up to take the cord from Santana's fingers. The brunette fell to her heels, a flush spreading over her face as she watched Brittany plug in the cord easily.

"I could have gotten it," she muttered with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest.

Brittany smirked, "With a stool, maybe."

Santana rolled her eyes but the hint of a smile played on the corners of her lips, "Whatever, get this one too while you're up there."

Brittany laughed and plugged in the rest of the cables Santana handed her.

"Thank you," Santana said quietly when they were finished.

"No problem," Brittany glanced around. "I have a question, though."

"What's that?" Santana, who had been turning towards the next task she knew needed finishing, stopped completely to give Brittany her full attention.

"Why are you guys doing this?" Brittany gestured to them, "I'm pretty sure no other company has their Head of IT down here setting up the presentations."

"I doubt any other Head of IT jumps at the chance to get away from their company building," Santana laughed. "But seriously, you know what happens if there's any technical difficulties when we're presenting?"

Brittany raised her eyebrows to prompt her to continue.

"We have to stand up there in front of everyone until the problem is fixed," Santana waved to the mini stage. "So, I'm a firm believer in making sure everything is done right, and the only way to do that, is to—"

"Do it yourself," Brittany finished for her with a smile. "I get it now."

"Heaven forbid IT Barbie messes something up," Santana rolled her eyes with a sarcastic tone and a smirk on her face. "We might just have to shut down this whole thing."

Brittany laughed, it was the first time she's seen Santana joke about her nickname and she thought that was progress.

"Say," Brittany stepped a little closer, and lowered her voice so that only Santana could hear, "you want to maybe... hang out tonight?"

Santana stared at her for a moment before repeating, "Hang out?"

Brittany almost wanted to giggle at the flustered look in her dark eyes, "Yeah, you know, like spend time together."

She watched Santana suck her bottom lip into her mouth and slowly rake her teeth across it as she thought it over. She didn't take her hesitation personally, she knew Santana needed to see all the angles, remind herself that this was okay, they were taking things slow.

"Yeah sure," she pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, dropping her eyes shyly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Video games at your place?" Brittany shrugged, "I had a lot of fun last time."

"You don't find it boring?" Santana asked to make sure. She had a lot of fun too, and she had been hoping to repeat the experience soon.

"Not at all," Brittany grinned lightly, "I just want to spend time with you, I really don't care what we're doing."

Santana's eyes fell to the floor with a blush, "Well, I want to spend time with you too, but I want to make sure you're enjoying yourself," she glanced up at her from under her bangs with a cocky smirk, "and not just watching me kick ass at Call of Duty."

Brittany giggled into the back of her hand, "How could I not enjoy that?"

"Fine," Santana knew she was sold on the idea, "but on one condition."

"What's that?" Brittany asked curious to what it might be.

Santana scuffed the toe of her pump, "You have to play with me."

"The killing games?" Brittany scrunched her nose playfully and Santana laughed.

"Maybe not," Santana conceded, "but something."

Brittany grinned, a hint of a flirtatious tone slipping into her voice, "I'll play whatever game you want."

Santana flushed deeper, the corners of her mouth quirked up as she looked away to hide her blush, "Then it's a plan."

"Awesome."


	17. Chapter 17

Brittany was about to knock when the door opened in front of her. Quinn's surprised look reminded Brittany of the first time she arrived on theses steps.

"Brittany?" she stepped out onto the landing, dragging a small suitcase behind her. "What are you—"

"Quinn!" Santana's voice floated through the door, "I printed off your confirmation shit, _have fun_ in Texas. Thanks for ditching my ass the day before the convention."

Quinn huffed, "It looks like you found a pretty nice replacement."

"What are you—" Santana's question died on her lips as she entered the threshold and found Brittany standing there. "Oh, um, hi Brittany."

"Hey," Brittany smiled back, a little amused at Santana's awkwardness and her outfit. It seemed like if she wasn't in the office, Santana's only desire was to be comfortable. Those Hollister sweatpants looked well loved and just as soft as the tee shirt clinging to her torso. The best part was her glasses, perched gently on her nose, framing dark, beautiful eyes.

"She's even blonde," Quinn smirked, snatching the papers from Santana's hands and moving down the stairs.

"You're so funny," Santana rolled her eyes, following her friend down the stairs and into her open arms.

The hug was quick but meaningful. They both wished each other luck in hushed voiced that didn't want to get too emotional. It was a big step for both of them, Quinn in her conquest against Jesse, and Santana in her battle with the pressures as the Face of Clockwork. They knew it was going to be a hard week.

"Are you sure—" Quinn hesitated suddenly, "I can ask someone else to go—I don't have to—"

"You're kidding me right?" Santana cut her off, "Quinn, you've worked so hard for this, there's no way in hell I'm going to let you throw it away to play babysitter at another convention."

Quinn bit her lip, nodding sharply to herself, "Call me, if you need anything, alright?"

"I'll be fine," Santana crossed her arms over her chest in a small effort to save face in front of Brittany. Honestly, it was embarrassing to have Quinn this worried about her. "I can take care of myself."

"You're right," Quinn pulled her into another hug and waved to Brittany, sending a silent message with her eyes. "Take care, Britt."

"I will," she sent Quinn the same subtle message back. She would take care, of Santana. "Good luck."

Only after that did Quinn finally feel comfortable enough to climb into the waiting cab and leave for the airport. Santana watched the yellow car disappear from view and looked up to Brittany on her steps.

Santana climbed the steps and Brittany watched her glance one more time towards the street that Quinn had disappeared down. She looked a little fragile, with her arms crossed over her chest protectively, scuffing her feet as she walked.

Because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time, Brittany wrapped her up in her arms as soon as she was within reach. It took a moment for Santana to sink into the contact, resting her forehead on Brittany's shoulder.

"You're going to be alright."

"I know," Santana shrugged in her arms, "it's just a week."

"Yeah," she kissed the top of Santana's head, and hoped that she would be enough to keep her spirits up. Might as well stick to her original plan, "You ready to play?"

Santana pulled away to offer the blonde a small but since smile, "Lets go kill something."

* * *

><p>Like everything else Santana taught her, it wasn't long before Brittany picked up the delicate interplay that was a necessity in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare.<p>

Santana offered to play something else, but Brittany had insisted. She knew this was Santana's way of unwinding, releasing stress, and the night before the convention, that was exactly what Brittany wanted to let her do. They sat alongside each other on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table in a manner that Brittany was sure Quinn wouldn't appreciate if she had been home. A pair of open beers sat next to forgotten coasters and a bag of chips.

"Explain Quinn."

Santana glanced over to Brittany, but the blonde didn't look away from the screen.

"Huh?"

"Like, how did you two meet?"

"At UCLA," Santana maneuvered her character around the screen, as she kept an eye on Brittany's.

"Did you take classes together?" Brittany pushed on.

"Not exactly."

There was an odd tone to Santana's voice that quirked Brittany's interest.

"What, did you date her in college too?"

Santana laughed, a flush spreading over her cheeks, "No, it wasn't anything like that. We pledged together."

"Like," Brittany didn't even notice her character was being killed because she was so distracted with the thought, "to a sorority?"

"Tri-Delts for life," Santana smirked from behind her beer.

"Tri-Delts?"

"Delta Delta Delta," Santana shrugged like it was no big deal, but the smile on her face told Brittany otherwise.

"Did you like being in a sorority? At NYU I would see those girls with their little booths and fundraisers, it always looked like they were... having fun."

"I loved it," Santana smiled genuinely this time, knowing what Brittany was trying to say. "We were all really tight. It was probably the best part of being at UCLA, but trust me, it was a lot more than just frat parties and boys."

"You mean there some girls thrown into the mix?"

Santana flushed and kept her focus on the video game.

Brittany laughed, "I'm teasing."

"You're kind of right," Santana admitted, "I didn't really start dating girls until I was there, all the girls were so cool about it, and it was_ such_ a breath of fresh air. I was a total closet case in high school. Plus, there's a UCLA and a Berkeley chapter so I had an easy way to make friends after I transferred."

"Transferring so close to graduation must have been hard for you," Brittany mused quietly. She was going to continue to present Santana with the opportunity to talk about the situation at UCLA, but keep the conversation light enough that she could deflect if she wanted to.

"You'd be surprised how easy things can be," Santana frowned softly.

Brittany licked her lips, weighing her odds, then taking the gamble to finish Santana's statement, "When you're running away from something."

"You're so clever," Santana jested not unkindly.

"I've been known to connect the dots," Brittany nudged her elbow against Santana's and smiled softly.

"You're actually doing really well," Santana brought her attention back to the game.

"You're a great teacher," Brittany sent a sideways smile and an adorable blush spread over Santana's face.

* * *

><p>The later it got, the more beers they drank, and the closer they seemed to gravitate together on the couch. Hoping to ruin any sort of romantic intentions that might crop up in the back of her head, Santana had switched games. <em>Dead Space<em> had seemed like the best option at the time the mix of suspense and mindless killing should have been a mood wrecker...

Unfortunately, or fortunately, the creepy music and surprise alien attacks had inspired a clingy urge in Brittany, who decided she would rather watch than to play this round.

"Oh my god, did you hear that?" her eyes were fixed on the screen, arms wrapped around Santana's bicep, "A monster is about to attack you, I can hear it."

"Shh," Santana hushed her, a soft blush covering her cheeks at the feeling of Brittany's chest pressed against her side, "me too. This game never scares me but you're making me freak out."

Brittany flushed, her voice dropping to a mere whisper, "I'm sorry."

"Besides, they're Necromorphs, not monsters," Santana corrected her with a smile.

"I don't really care what they're called," Brittany rolled her eyes playfully, "they're creepy as hell."

"True," Santana nodded, "could you do me a favor though?"

"Anything," Brittany said without hesitation.

"Wanna pass me my beer?"

"Sure," Brittany leaned forward just a little to get the bottle. When she moved back on the couch her arm snaked easily across Santana's shoulders as she settled in, nice and close. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Santana spoke in a quiet breath as she took the bottle. She downed the rest of it easily.

"Hurry up, the monsters are coming," Brittany took the empty bottle from her so she could get back to playing the game.

"Alright, alright," Santana chuckled some of her nerves out.

Killing the alien horde was easy compared to how much concentration it took to keep her hands on her controller and not on thigh pressing against her own. An eerie noise crept through the surround sound and she could feel Brittany's body stiffen next to hers.

"It's going to be okay, Britt," Santana smirked, scanning her area for aliens.

"Why do you play this in the middle of the night, with all the lights off?" Brittany mumbled a trace of a whine in her voice.

"You want me to play something else?"

"No, I know you haven't hit a save point in a while."

"You know a little about video games?"

"I used to watch Artie play them all the time," Brittany admitted. She never had this much fun when she did, and Artie would have never have let her stay in the room if she was going to get this scared.

"Oh," Santana felt herself frown, Brittany missed it as a new wave for aliens sprang from the crevices of the spaceship and attacked Santana's character.

Brittany squealed, burring her face into Santana's shoulder.

Santana's breath hitched, unused to this much physical contact, the warm press of a body clinging to hers, soft breath on her neck.

"What's happening?" Brittany asked when she noticed Santana's reaction. "Did they kill you?"

"Not yet," she shook her head to refocus. Kill aliens. Just kill aliens.

"They're going to eat you alive."

"Okay, okay," Santana relaxed as the horde was finished off. It was a mix of smelling Brittany's shampoo, almost being eaten alive, and being touched that was making her heart pound and blood rush, "I'm good, they're all dead."

Brittany picked her head up to see for herself. Her hair ran over the sensitive skin at the base of Santana's neck and the Latina couldn't suppress a shudder.

"You okay?" Brittany asked, studying the blushing girl closely.

"Your hair," Santana rolled her neck to get her tingles out, "just tickled me a little."

A sly grin spread over the blonde's face, "You're ticklish?"

"No," Santana's stomach dropped, Brittany was already reaching for her sides, "No, no—Britt!"

Brittany's fingers pinched and prodded, and Santana wiggled under them, a burst of a giggle erupting from inside her. She spun towards the blonde, leaning back to try and get space between them, using her hands, still wrapped around the controller to push against Brittany's chest and hold her at bay.

"Britt!" Santana's breath was getting away from her, and Brittany's laughter was mixing in with her own in a pleasant melody.

A well placed pinch sent Santana into spasm that landed her on her back, Brittany followed. Laying along side the Latina on the couch, she pushed her arms above her head so she could place a light kiss on her lips. Santana smiled into the kiss, and she threw her hands and the controller over the blonde's head, pressing her forearms into Brittany's shoulder blades to bring her closer.

The sounds of an alien attack was a distant thought in their minds as they kissed. Slow and soft, Brittany trailed a pattern down her jawline sucking lightly at the sensitive skin just under her ear. The dull thud of the controller being dropped to the ground went unnoticed. Something in Santana's breathing changed, it wasn't the excited giggle she had been emitting a moment before. It was a hitched, fluttering, gasp as Brittany let her tongue roll slowly over her earlobe, teasing softly with her teeth and feeling Santana shudder beneath her.

Fingers ran along her sides, following the arch of her back to trace Brittany's shoulder blades. She moved slightly, guided by the light pressure placed against her back, so their bodies were flush together. Her weight sat easily along Santana's body, molding softly together, letting their legs tangle and their hair mix.

Santana's full lips brushed softly against the edge of her jaw and it sent a course of goosebumps down her spine. She wanted those lips on hers. Brittany shifted to prop herself on one elbow, letting her free hand find a home on Santana's hip. The woman flinched lightly at the contact, both surprised and exhilarated by it. Her hands ran up Brittany's neck pulling her closer to capture her lips.

It started languid and soft, more to really enjoy the fact that they were actually, finally, kissing in full. Here, laying together on a couch, the suspenseful music of Santana's video game still playing in the background, something inside Santana broke. The small, lasting, reserve that she had tried to keep in place to protect herself from getting too close to the woman disappeared into this kiss.

Brittany ventured a little, slipping her tongue along Santana's lower lip. That was all it took.

She pulled Brittany in deeper, and she felt Brittany smile into the kiss. It was reassuring, and endearing, and she just couldn't get enough of the blonde's and the hand on her, a thumb tracing small circles just above her hip bone. Slipping under the fabric of her tee shirt, running over a slim rib cage and back down. She felt Santana arch into her touch, a small gasp falling from her lips.

Her skin was on fire, blood rushing to her face, pounding in her ears, pooling in her loins. Santana took a breath, trying to steady herself as Brittany's lips traced along her jawline. She could feel the wet heat between her legs, the need rising in her lower stomach. Brittany's teeth tugged gently down her earlobe, Santana's breath hitched when she started sucking on her pulse point. That hand ran up her side again and she arched further as Brittany's thumb ran along the edge of her bra.

Santana let out a small noise that could have been interpreted as pleading, and Brittany smiled into her neck. Her fingers slipped under the soft material, loving the quiet moan that tumbled out of Santana's mouth. She roamed over the delicate flesh under her fingers, teasing the firm bud of a nipple she found there. The body under her twitched upward. Santana's breathing had become a pant, she was clutching Brittany's shirt and hip tightly, trying to stay in control, trying to keep from rocking her hips froward into the woman's thigh.

She couldn't think of the last time she had been this worked up this quickly. With just a few kisses she was on cloud nine. It was every time she had wanted Brittany, every time she had realized how beautiful she was just sitting in her office, every time she had to restrain herself from reaching out and pulling the woman to her lips. It was everything she could do to keep herself from acting on her urges in the office, bottling up into this one moment when she didn't have to hold back, and she could feel the desire pouring out.

Brittany moved, shifting slightly forward to lift her head from Santana's neck, back to her lips. The noise that spilled from The Latina's throat was the huskiest moan she's ever heard, it shot right to her core, like adding gasoline to a fire. She kissed her deeply, acutely aware of the friction she was causing between Santana's legs and how those hips were shifting under her. They started a rhythm, working together guided by a need they had been suppressing for so long.

Brittany broke their kisses so she could press their foreheads together and ask, "Is this okay?"

Santana's mouth fell open, but her eyes were closed and her cheeks flushed. She nodded quickly, her tongue wetting her lips, "Don't stop."

Brittany placed a soft kiss on her cheek before finding that spot on her neck that made her—

"Fuck," Santana gasped between gritted teeth, her hips rocking forward into Brittany's thigh, all sense of embarrassment already disregarded. She was already so close. A tight coil of nerves radiating in her lower stomach. The seem of her sweat pants rubbing in just the right spot. Brittany's fingers danced over her nipple sending another radiating flash of pleasure through her body. She clutched helplessly at the blonde's back with one hand, the other at her lower back, urging her on. Brittany didn't miss the hint, rolling her hips faster, sucking harder at Santana's collar bone.

Brittany thought that this was amazing. Finally, feeling this soft flesh under her, the quiet gasps and moans emitting from the woman under her. Making her feel this way, react like this, Brittany was so happy in this moment.

"Uhn," Santana squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her cheek against Brittany's. Her entire body flushed with a wave of heat, every muscle contracting in synchrony, as the coil snapped against Brittany's thigh. She let out a shuddering breath.

Brittany had pulled her head away just in time to watch Santana fall over the edge. The small crease between her brows, the way her teeth were biting her lip to the point where it turned white. She saw the flush, subtle on Santana's complexion, spread from her cheeks and down her neck. Brittany was sure that with her hair spilled across the couch, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She shifted to Santana's side, watching her chest rise and fall as she caught her breath.

Santana's grip loosened and as she caught up with herself. In that moment Santana's embarrassment came back in full, "Oh my god."

She pulled a throw pillow out from behind her head and covered her face with it.

Brittany was confused for a moment before a small realization dawned on her. Her hand, that had slipped from Santana's bra, traced small patterns along the woman's stomach. The sensation brought on an aftershock and Brittany smiled as the muscles under her fingers quaked lightly.

"You're so lovely," she whispered because it was true.

Santana offered a short grunt from behind the pillow and Brittany's grin widened. She ducked her head and pressed her lips against Santana's shoulder.

"Why are you hiding from me?"

"Why do you make me feel like a horny teenage boy?" Santana asked gruffly, she could still feel the heat on her cheeks, between her legs. On a couch like a couple of teenagers that couldn't even wait to get their pants off wasn't how Santana had pictured this happening.

"Because I'm awesome," Brittany's lips pressed against her shoulder again and Santana could feel the smile in them.

Santana snorted, Brittany's lighthearted nature fill her and shake off the rest of the bashfulness, "And so modest."

Brittany only smiled and let her hand roam open palmed along Santana's stomach, gingerly tracing her abs, brushing over her rib cage, then back down her side.

"Can I see your tattoo?"

Santana was so surprised by the question she had to lift the pillow to give the blonde a curious look, "What?"

"Your tattoo," Brittany circled the spot she guessed it to be, right along the ribcage.

"H—how did you know I have a tattoo?" Santana's eyes were focused in a weary manner.

"I saw it at the gym," Brittany admitted with a flush, "you were finishing up your session and lifted your shirt to dry your face. I might have noticed."

Santana let out a relieved breath, that Brittany didn't understand, and reached down to lift up her shirt. Brittany's eyes blinked a few times, momentarily thrown by the newly exposed span of bronze skin. She marveled at the contours, the curves and dips of hipbones. Her thumb brushed over Santana's navel, and she heard the woman's breath catch as her hand worked upwards, skimming over her ribs to trace the pattern of black ink.

"What's it mean?"

The upturned crescent moon was a solid black, capturing three stars inside it's arch, a matching three triangles shown in Santana's natural skin tone along the bottom ridge.

"It's actually the symbol of my sorority," Santana explained quietly, "the Greek letter for Delta is a triangle."

"That explains the shirt you were wearing that day too," Brittany laughed, "I thought Berkeley had a thing for geometry or something."

Santana smiled, flattered that Brittany would remember what she was wearing so long ago, "We need to go play racquetball again."

"We do," Brittany licked her lips, "I bet I'll beat you next time too."

Santana snorted, folding her arms behind her head, allowing Brittany to keep her shirt pushed up, "As if."

"Is that a challenge?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Possibly," Santana shrugged a little, barely holding back a tremble as Brittany ran her finger down her stomach, circling her naval, then down to the edge of her pants.

"I think," Brittany slowly traced the hem of cotton, "that if I really tried, I could beat you."

"You were really trying the last time we played," Santana's voice had dropped a little, her eyes fluttering closed, "and you still lost by six."

"It was five."

"It was a lot," Santana smirked at the competitive tone in Brittany's voice. She found it, oddly attractive, "And I was going easy on—"

A light pinch to her side cut her off, she opened her eyes to find Brittany's playful glare, "Don't even think about it, you were breathing pretty heavily when we finished up."

Santana had to look away to hide the intention in her eyes but Brittany just needed a minute to realize what kind of innuendo she had just let slip. Her face flushed and a lopsided grin spread over her lips.

"We'll just have to have a rematch," Santana continued causally and at first Brittany wasn't sure what she was talking about until she reminded herself that they were going slow, taking things easy. No need to rush.

She glanced at the TV, still flashing the playback screen and waiting for Santana to press a certain button. "I think they killed you."

Santana laughed, "Looks like it. You're a wonderful distraction, Brittany, but my stats are taking a serious hit."

Brittany flushed and mumbled an apology but Santana just smiled and leaned up to kiss her one more time.

"I'll get over it."

* * *

><p>Brittany felt giddy. There was something about being back in the same environment as when she met Santana for the first time. It was exciting, and warm, and a great feeling. She really couldn't believe how much has happened since that day. How many blessing she's had.<p>

It killed her to think of what might have happened if she hadn't decided to interview Santana. She could still be a reporter working small pieces about the city construction, or upcoming elections. She never would have been able to get to know Santana. She brushed those thoughts out of her head and looked around the convention floor through the lens of her camera.

She found Santana across the way and zoomed in. She was standing next to Mike and Sam at the Clockwork exhibit, Kurt hovering nearby on the phone. They were talking about something, probably getting ready for Mike's next presentation.

She hadn't wanted to make it obvious that she was keeping an eye on the brunette throughout the convention, so she kept a small amount of distance between them and looked in every once in a while. Kurt was already on orders to text her if anything went wrong, but so far Santana almost seemed to be enjoying herself.

Santana glanced in her direction, her eyes narrowing into a squint. It only took a moment to recognize Brittany and offer a small wave, the smile in Santana's eyes made her heart warm. She remembered last night, how they had spent the rest of it laying on the couch with each other. Brittany took a quick picture and lowered her camera, sending Santana a large smile and a wave back.

The boys pulled her back into the conversation and Brittany watched for a moment longer before turning her focus onto other things. She glanced around the other displays, wandering around the arena. She couldn't help but compare all of them to Clockwork's. She felt some sort of allegiance to the work Mike, Sam, and Santana had put into this convention. Santana had even made sure that she was given a Clockwork convention team badge, instead of a generic press ID.

Brittany kept well away from where she knew Orbit's display was. That was one thing she was hoping to avoid this entire time.

"Hey you."

She turned with a smile at the sound of Santana's voice.

"Hey," she was surprised, but excited at the idea that Santana might leave her work to come and talk to her. "What are you doing over here?"

"I'm not chained to the Clockwork station," Santana smiled with a shy shrug. "I just wanted to walk around with you. See what you thought of the other displays."

Brittany smiled warmly, a pleased blush spreading over her face, "I would love that. You're just in time actually, because I don't quite understand what this means."

She pointed to a sign on exhibit next to a new computer model. Santana glanced over it before explaining what it was all about. They moved along the aisles, pointing out the things they liked and Santana telling Brittany how Clockwork did it better.

"It's funny isn't it," Santana started quietly as they looked at different colored computer towers from Alien Wear.

"What is?" Brittany prompted curiously.

"Being back at a convention like this," she sent Brittany a sideways glance, "it's like, how we first met."

"I was thinking about that earlier," Brittany admitted. "I think it's awesome."

"I wouldn't really mind these things..." Santana licked her lips, "as long as you were here with me."

"Well that's great," Brittany took a step closer and nudged their shoulders together, "because I love these things."

Santana's stomach fluttered, just the idea that Brittany might love something directly related to her made her feel light headed. She didn't use that word very often, the L word. It was something special, sacred, and so scary. Santana hadn't known a feeling like that for a long time.

With Brittany, things were different.

She took the time to noticed the little details about her, the brand of pens she favored, how she liked her coffee. She came to work excited to see the blonde, not just for her company, but to see what she might be wearing that day. It was safe to say that Santana was a huge fan of Brittany's fashion sense. She felt herself appreciate the parts of Brittany's character, her open curiosity and subtle inquisition.

Santana knew that all the things she liked about Brittany were slowly turning into the things she loved about her. Eventually, she would get to a point where she loved so many things about her... that it would be impossible to deny that she loved the woman in her entirety.

They held each others eyes, sharing a small moment that they both wished the other was thinking the same thing. The small smiles on their faces were just as telling as any words. They were in over their heads and oblivious to the world around them until the warm fuzzies came crashing to a halt in a single word.

"Brittany."

They turned around to find Artie moving towards them. Brittany could practically feel Santana's body tense next to her. The soft smile on her face had already died into a hard warning look. She was daring Artie to step across the line and provoke her.

"Can I speak to you?" Artie continued when she didn't say anything.

Brittany took a breath to think. She wasn't sure if Artie really wanted to speak to her, or was just trying to get under Santana's skin. They way they were eying each other told her this was something more than just two cooperate rivals bumping into each other.

Santana's body language was making it obvious that she didn't want to leave Brittany with him, but she was baited on her response. There was something riding on it. She didn't know what this was about, but her instincts told her not to choose Artie over Santana.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something," she gestured to the booth behind them. "I'll find you later okay?"

He looked genuinely surprised before sending a hard glare to Santana. He might have thought it was subtle, but Brittany caught it and it didn't win him any points in her favor. The gleam in Santana's eye was just as telling. Brittany realized that her attention had been the prize and Santana had won it.

"I'll be waiting," he turned and rolled away from them. They all knew this wasn't over.

It wasn't until he was well out of sight that Santana's shoulders went slack and she let out a long sigh, "You know you could have gone to talk to him if you wanted to."

"I know," Brittany acknowledged quietly. She could still see the small shine of pride on the Latina's face from being chosen over him. "But honestly, I don't really want to talk to him, and I'd much rather keep hanging out with you."

That broke all of Santana's polite reserve and a pleased smile spread over her face, "Let's head back to Clockwork and make sure the boys are taken care of. I think the second presentation is supposed to start soon. I know you missed the first one."

Brittany wanted so badly to take her hand and lead her back to the Clockwork station, and the look in Santana's eyes told her she was thinking the same thing. The shared a small wistful smile and headed off to meet their friends.


	18. Chapter 18

AN: Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, alerts, and PMs. They really made the time I had to take off worth it. Hopefully I'll be able to get back into the swing of things without too many more delays.

Again, thank you for all your support.

— Gorshenin.

* * *

><p>"Are you staying back here?"<p>

They had taken refuge in Clockwork's employee cubical, in the back of the convention center, while Santana prepared for one of her few showings. She was glad that she didn't have a full schedule this time, it gave her a lot more time to be with Brittany, just walking around and pointing out what they liked and disliked about the other showings, almost acting like a normal couple.

"Why would I stay back here?" Brittany asked from where she was leaning against a cheap folding table. She watched Santana's fingers wrestle to clip the microphone receiver onto the back of her skirt. "Let me get this."

She stepped forward, capturing the device and one of Santana's wrists in her hands. She met the dark brown eyes in the mirror hanging on the wall and, after a short breath, Santana surrendered the receiver. Brittany was able to adjust the clip and fix it to the her skirt easily.

She didn't linger because she knew Santana was trying to focus on her presentation and that anyone could walk into the cubical at any time. Crossing her arms to keep them to herself, Brittany wandered towards the wall and leaned against it causally. She could feel Santana watching her and she didn't hesitate to meet her eyes again.

Santana's ducked her head shyly. She couldn't hold Brittany's eyes when she said this, "If you're watching, I'm going to get nervous."

Brittany laughed and Santana glared with a blush on her face.

"I'm being serious, Brittany."

"Santana, you give these presentations all the time," she chuckled.

"Yeah, but I actually care about your opinion," Santana muttered, smoothing down the front of her shirt and adjusting her sleeve cuffs.

Brittany's smile turned from teasing to flattered in an instant, "Santana, I'm just one more person in the audience."

"I know," she pulled on her blazer and worked the buttons expertly. Pulling down the hem, Santana gave herself one more look in the mirror, "You're right, I'm being stupid."

"You're not being stupid," Brittany pushed off the wall and moved closer, "you're just being silly."

"What's the difference?"

"Besides the fact that I hate that word," Brittany smiled lightly, "you know that they're completely different things."

Santana watched the blonde come closer, reaching out confidently. Her hands settled around each of Santana's lapels, running her thumbs gently over the material.

"You know this stuff like you know your shoe size, and totally better than anyone else out there," she continued in a soft voice. "I've seen you do this before, you were so confident up there, it was honestly, so sexy."

Santana flushed, ducking her head and biting her lip to hide her bashful smile. She loved that Brittany could say things like that, and it made her warm and her knees week. It made her _feel_ beautiful. Not objectified or lusted over, but actually wanted, adored, sexy.

"You're going to be amazing out there," Brittany kissed her forehead softly, "and I would love to see it."

"Fine," Santana agreed in a shy voice.

Brittany grinned excitedly and Santana felt the corners of her lips perk up at the sight. Her smiles were so contagious. Santana bit the inside of her cheek and tried to get herself together. She wasn't about to give her presentation with a unruly smile on her face the whole time, it wouldn't do her reputation any favors.

* * *

><p>Santana lead them onto the main floor, Brittany still had a little trouble navigating the mess of cubicles and halls.<p>

The women both noticed, and ignored, the Clockwork advertisement posters hanging around the arena. They were all from the latest photo shoot with Tina, and Brittany thought that they looked gorgeous. She had caught Santana scrutinizing a few with a hard eye earlier this morning, and she knew better than to try and compliment them. Santana would much rather her compliment other things, like how great her sense of direction was.

That earned Brittany a pretty smile.

Once they arrived at Clockwork's display, Santana wasted no time helping the boys set up the last touches as Brittany watched from off to the side. Santana was getting into her zone and Brittany loved it. The intelligent concentration in her eyes, the way she lead the people around her in the set up process.

She was radiant and Brittany wasn't surprised that a group was already starting to form around the mini stage.

There were a few times, when Santana would pause for short moment, and her eyes would find Brittany in the crowd. There was such a focus in her gaze that Brittany felt like she was the only one in the entire convention hall. It was such a great feeling that Brittany was almost sad when Santana finally stepped onto the stage to begin her presentation.

The entire thing was just an overview of Clockwork's upcoming products and showcases. She was acting as the spokes woman again. The poster girl for Clockwork's merchandise, but Santana handled it gracefully. She spoke passionately about the future projects because she held a stake in their making and Brittany could tell.

She saw the fire in Santana's eyes, the subtle pride in her voice, and it was, truly gorgeous. Brittany wondered if, on some level, she had fallen for Santana when she had first watched her present. Focusing on her work for a moment, Brittany remembered to jot down a few notes and snap another few pictures.

"She's really on her game today," Kurt spoke from her side.

"Yeah," Brittany agreed, keeping her eyes on either her notepad or Santana. She didn't think she could look at Kurt without giving away just how close her and Santana had become.

"I would even venture to say that she looks positively beaming this morning," he continued, and Brittany could hear the insinuation in his voice.

"Yes," she licked her lips, trying to keep a straight face, "very pretty."

"Must of had a great night, to look this relaxed," Kurt continued. "Normally, she comes in looking like she hasn't slept in days."

Brittany nodded, thinking back to their first interview, how stressed Santana had seemed. She really was happy that Santana was able to get a decent night's sleep. Was it strange that she felt proud of herself?

"Makes me wonder what she might have done differently last night."

Brittany knew he was fishing, but if there was one thing she wouldn't do, it was put Santana's business out there. Even if he was dead on.

"You look rather...bubbly yourself," he teased and Brittany wasn't able to keep the blush off her face. His dry chuckle was enough to know that she had been found out, but to her relief, he did push any further than that.

"...are there any questions?"

Santana's voice caught their attention and they both looked up to watch her answer the questions with the same dignified grace they respected her for possessing.

When Santana finally wrapped up her session she stepped off the miniature stage and made herself busy behind the display until the crowd dispersed and it was safe for her to leave. Brittany and Kurt were there waiting when she did.

"You were great," Brittany smiled honestly and Santana blushed.

"It wasn't anything crazy," she brushed off, "just a company overview."

"Well, you still knocked it out of the park," Kurt agreed, "and there wasn't a single question about vulgar magazines, I was almost disappointed, I was ready to rumble."

Santana laughed, "Yeah, what were you going to do? Hit them with your purse?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Brittany, be a doll and teach Santana some new jokes."

Brittany just laughed and followed them back to the Clockwork area in the back.

* * *

><p>Santana walked briskly through the labyrinth of cubicles and booths. It wasn't that she didn't like being around the floor by herself, it was just that she preferred to be in the company of her friends when she did. Brittany had been pulled away to help out someone from her office who was doing a small piece on the convention. Santana wondered if they hoped to become a journalist too.<p>

"She's just your type, isn't she?"

Santana stopped in her tracks. She knew who was behind her, and she hated it. She gave herself a moment to count to ten, try to remain calm before turning on her heel and facing Artie Abrams.

"Excuse me?"

"Tall, blonde," his eyes narrowed behind his glasses, "and just _so_ impressed with your _technical skill_."

Santana could feel the innuendo dripping from his words. She couldn't keep her eyes from scanning the immediate area to see if anyone could overhear this.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you," her voice was cold and quiet, "I was never involved with Professor Holiday."

"Right," he rolled his eyes, "and all those late night study sessions were just extra credit."

"_Or_ working on the thesis that scored me the internship _you_ wanted," Santana's eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure the only working you did was between her legs," he scoffed, "or in that whore house of yours."

"It was a sorority, Artie, not a brothel," Santana took a step closer, her temper getting away from her, "and don't you dare pretend you didn't like it when I invited you over. You took every opportunity to try and get dates with the girls that were feeling a little charitable."

"Feeling a little slutty, you mean."

"It was more like pity, asshole," Santana glared. "The charity was when they didn't tell everybody the truth after you went around bragging about how you got into their pants."

Artie flushed but tried to save face, "Good thing too, I probably would have caught something."

"And just what are you catching at Orbit?" Santana's hands clenched tightly at her sides, "see a promotion in the future? Or are you settling on your entry grade position and that broom closet of a office they have you in? I never did congratulate you on the upgrade from that cubical, but I'm sure someone in the office is walking around with a knife in their back for that one."

"Some of us have to work a little harder to prove ourselves," Artie's gloves squeaked against his wheels as his grip tightened, "we all can't get a_head,_ by giving it."

Santana saw red. She already took the first step, it would have only taken two more to get to him, throw her hands around his neck and make him beg for mercy, but a strong hand on her arm spun her around.

"Santana," Brittany's held a calm reserve and a glint of anger that Santana had never seen in them before, "They need you in the Clockwork break area."

She hesitated for just a moment, it was enough for Brittany to squeeze her arm with an added, "Please."

"Don't take too long," she muttered under her breath, sending one last glare at Artie, before taking off.

When she was finally out of earshot, Brittany trained her eyes on her ex-boyfriend. They watched each other for a moment; it was obvious that this wasn't how Artie had planned on getting Brittany to talk to him. He looked embarrassed and worried about what she might have overheard.

"Artie," she didn't want to be rude, they did have a history, but she wasn't going to make this easy. She walked slowly to a nearby folding chair and took a seat, she knew it would make him a little more comfortable. "You said you wanted to talk to me. This is your chance."

Brittany waited for him try to figure out what to say. He rolled closer, letting the distance between them shrink until they could have a semiprivate conversation.

"How are you?" he seemed genuinely interested so Brittany decided to give him a straight answer.

"I'm doing great, actually," she looked around because she didn't want to look at him. "You?"

"Good," he nodded awkwardly, "I'm doing good."

She wasn't sure what to do next. She didn't really want to be in this conversation. A huge part of her needed to get to Santana, to make sure she was doing alright, to make sure he hadn't done too much damage.

Another part of her just wanted answers.

"I guess I..." he looked up at her and she realized that he was remorseful. He regretted their breakup. "I wanted to see if this Clockwork thing was everything you wanted it to be... and to see if you're happy."

"It is," Brittany said softly, lightening the blow, "it's more than I could have ever hoped for, Artie."

"You're happy?"

"Yeah, I am," she could hear a slight disappointed nature to his voice, as if he had been hoping she regretted her decision. That really just broke her heart, if anything, she hoped Artie would have been happy for her.

"Then, I don't think I have anything else to say," he started to turn to leave.

"You lied to me."

Artie didn't speak; he wasn't going to offer anything freely. He spun his wheels so she was looking at his profile instead of straight on.

"You went to college together," Brittany shifted a little in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes never wavered from his face.

"A lot of people have graduated from UCLA," he shrugged, "I'm sure it's not that big a coincidence."

"I know it's more than that."

"So we went to the same college, it's not that big a deal."

"Did you lie to me this much when we were dating?" Brittany asked abruptly, her voice laced with disappointment. "Or do you only lie about Santana?"

Brittany watched him closely, noticing the subtle flare of his nostrils and the shifting grip on his wheels. He was anxious about something. She had a pretty good feeling that he knew something she didn't, something he didn't want her to find out.

"Please," her voice softened, "just be honest with me. I've never seen you like this, resenting someone like this, you act like she ruined your life."

"Our relationship is just one more thing she's ruined for me."

Brittany's brow furrowed, Santana had not been responsible for their breakup in any way, but now was not the time to address that, "I just don't understand why you hate her so much, because… she's great to me, Artie. She's sweet and kind, and I've been watching her work for weeks and I know she deserves her job, and her title."

There must have been something in her voice, the way her eyes flickered over to the direction Santana gone, but he saw it. Brittany had always been horrible at hiding the way she felt.

"You're not—" he shook his head, trying to rid the idea from his mind, "I can't believe this, you two are—"

"We're not," she cut him off, looking him hard in the eye. It was a half lie, she knew. They weren't anything official, but no one could know that they were anything at all. Especially not Artie Abrams. "I promise you, we're not."

He searched her eyes for a trace of doubt, and Brittany knew he was remembering how horrible she was at lying.

"Not yet," he concluded bitterly, "but you want to be."

She licked her lips and decided that it was the lesser of two evils, "Yes, I do."

"Does she know?"

"No," Brittany whispered like she was telling an embarrassing secret, "it wouldn't be professional, this feature is too important to me. I can't risk it."

There was a hint of doubt in his eyes, "I bet she knows, and she's using it to manipulating you."

Even if it was a lie, Brittany still wanted to defend Santana in some way, "She's not—"

"It's what she does, Brittany," Artie's voice was low and harsh. "She figures out your weaknesses, and she uses them in her favor, and she takes everything from the people around her."

"What did she take from you?" Brittany asked because she honestly didn't understand. "What did she do to you that was so hurtful?"

His jaw snapped shut and his eyes fell to the floor next to him. "_Everything_, it's like she's out to get everything I've ever wanted. You're just another example, Brittany. I don't know why you like her, she's not even worth your time, she's just a—"

"She is worth my time," Brittany said sternly, before he could insult Santana one more time, "and I know she's worth my time because she _takes_ her time to explain things to me and to teach me things. She _makes_ time for me Artie. Which is honestly, something you never did."

He flushed, dropping his eyes for a moment, before his bitterness gave him the strength to look at her again, "Santana isn't everything you think she is. You're a smart girl, Brittany. I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually."

He quickly spun around and rolled off, she knew better than to try and get him to stop. She needed to go find Santana anyway.

* * *

><p>Santana paced the small confines of Clockwork's cubical. No one needed her, she knew enough to realize that Brittany had just needed an excuse to get her away from that man. Mike and Sam were giving another presentation and she was thankful for that. Kurt was missing in action, or maybe out looking for her and Brittany.<p>

She wished Quinn was here.

Quinn wouldn't have let her get that worked up, she would have ushered her away from Artie the moment she saw him. She wouldn't have let him get the chance to make it all come back.

Santana stopped, coming to a halt in front of the mirror on the wall. The convention staff always make sure there's a mirror in Clockwork's cubical, because IT Barbie wouldn't be anything without picture perfect hair and flawless makeup.

That was all she was to these people. Hair and makeup. A model. A body.

She watched herself in the mirror, wondering if what Artie said was true. Had she been granted favors in the world because of her looks? Maybe she hadn't earned her position through merit, and it was always Jesse's plan to use her like this. He just needed to get her in the right job title to make it all fit together.

Maybe Holly really did slant her grades at UCLA.

She snorted to herself,_ that_ was a load of crap. She had worked her ass off in college and she knew it.

A soft click of heels made her turn from the mirror. Brittany made it into the small space, Santana could see the worry in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, moving closer.

Santana watched her hesitate. It was obvious she wanted to hug the small Latina but didn't know if it was against the rules. Santana really didn't care right now, so she did it for her and Brittany was quick to return the hug.

"I'm sorry about him," Brittany mumbled into her dark hair. She couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible.

"Don't worry about it," Santana sighed, "he's always been an—

"Ass?"

Santana paused before chuckling, "Exactly."

"You usually use that word when it comes to him."

Santana broke out of Brittany's arms, her eyes a little guarded as she turned away from the blonde, "It's an old habit, I guess."

Old habit from a hidden past. Brittany couldn't keep the frown from her face. Her patients was truly one of her best qualities, but everyone had their limits. She wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"Santana," she dropped her eyes to her clasped hands, "I would really appreciate knowing what happened between you two."

"That's... understandable," Santana squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You've been so great about everything Brittany, I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

Brittany's heart softened, she could hear the underlying weariness in her voice. This was an old wound, one that Santana had felt ripped open and torn apart too many times. Brittany didn't want to do it again.

"Santana, I'm sorry, you don't have—"

"I do," Santana cut her off, letting her hand fall away and fixing the blonde with an honest stare. "I really do. You deserve the truth, Brittany. You... you deserve everything."

Brittany felt the weight of those words, how much Santana meant them.

"But I can't... get into it here," her dark eyes skated towards the walls of the cubical. "I just can't."

"I understand," Brittany nodded softly, "I do."

Santana took a deep breath, willing the tension leave her body. She let herself fall into Brittany's understanding eyes and gentle smile. This woman would wait for her. She wouldn't pressure or prod, expect her to bend or change. She wasn't sure if Brittany knew how much that meant to her.

"Oh, good!"

Santana and Brittany both jumped at Kurt's sudden arrival.

"There you are," he rattled on without realizing their surprise, "Mike and Sam just finished up their last event and the convention is about to close down shop."

Santana looked at her watch, it was later than she had thought, how much time had she spent in the back arguing with Artie and talking to Brittany.

"I like to supervise the set up," she glanced between Brittany and Kurt, "but I never stay for the tear down. Are we good to leave?"

"Would you ladies be interested in drinks?"

* * *

><p>Brittany was warm.<p>

It might have something to do with being in a crowded bar, the trace of alcohol in her system, or maybe the warm body she was squeezed into a booth with.

Santana was laughing; that in itself made Brittany warm. Sam's impersonation was bleak at best and Brittany wasn't sure if Santana was laughing because it was funny, or if it was that bad. Maybe after a few bottles of beer, it could be funny. Brittany had laughed.

Brittany wasn't exactly up to par on their inside jokes and the technical jargon but she liked the environment. Mike and Sam were pleasantly funny and played well off of Kurt and Santana's sarcasm. Brittany interjected here and there but was content to watch Santana enjoy herself.

Not to mention enjoying the feeling of Santana's body against her, an arm wrapped around her waist to allow for the best utilization of space in this crowded corner booth. Santana's hand had crept onto her thigh sometime during the night and it was one more reason for Brittany to be happy, and fuzzy, and rather warm.

She took a small drink and set her bottle down. Slipping her hand under the table, Brittany covered Santana's with her own, tracing the woman's knuckles with her fingertips. Next to her, Santana licked her lips and continued the conversation with only the barest of pauses. They called it a night when Sam spilled his drink for the second time and it was probably for the best because Brittany wasn't sure how much longer she could take Santana's finger's on her thigh.

The night air was crisp and Brittany was glad to feel it. She took a deep breath through her nose and smiled into the night sky.

"Fuck," Santana mumbled next to her. The boys were off to one side calling cabs and figuring out who was going which way.

Brittany watched her rub lightly at her eyes, "You okay?"

"These damn contacts," Santana grumbled, prying open her eyelids with her fingers.

"You're not taking them out right—" she stopped talking when she realized that was exactly what Santana was doing, carelessly flicking the small flecks of plastic to the ground. Santana might have been a little more intoxicated than Brittany had originally thought.

She rubbed her eyes and blinked rapidly a smiled coming to her face, "So much fucking better."

"No, no, they're going in the same direction," Kurt waved the boys off, and sent a sly wink to Brittany, "they'll split."

Brittany flushed, glancing at Santana who had missed the whole exchange.

"Fuck," Santana looked around her and Brittany thought she might have lost something.

"What's wrong?"

Santana cracked a large smile, "I'm blind. I can't...even... make out their faces from here."

Brittany had to laugh, because watching Santana squint was the most adorable thing in the world. She took a step closer and caught Santana's attention.

"Come on," she slipped her arm around Santana's shoulders, "We'll split a cab."

Santana blushed, glancing over subconsciously at the area that she knew the boys were standing, but they were already pouring into a cab. There were no more eyes watching and no more reasons to hold back so she put her own arm around Brittany's waist and held her close.

"Yeah, let's do that."

* * *

><p>There was a quiet understanding to the way Brittany followed Santana out of the cab. They walked up the driveway together and Santana slipped her arm around Brittany's to guide the front door. By the time her keys were in the door and the dead bolt rolled over, Santana wondered if she should be nervous. If Brittany was feeling any sort of nerves she wasn't letting it show.<p>

The way she moved into the house and slipped out of her heels, like she did it all the time, like she belonged there, made Santana that much more comfortable. She followed suit, making sure to lock up behind them and activate the security system.

"I had a lot of fun today," Brittany mentioned into the calm silence.

"I'm really glad," Santana started unbuttoning her blazer and moved further into the house.

It was dark, tranquil, and familiar. Santana had a large urge to wander into her basement and play around on her computer but she had company. Tall, blonde, beautiful, company. She could hear the sounds of Brittany's feet on the hardwood behind her and it sent an anticipating shiver up her spine.

"The boys weren't nearly as annoying when they're drunk," she smirked. She missed Quinn again and their post-convention rituals, but tonight had been rather fun.

"You're not exactly sober yourself," Brittany added from behind her

Santana rolled her eyes as she turned around, "Are you calling me drunk?"

"Maybe just a little," Brittany's hand came to her cheek the moment she was still. "Can I kiss you? I've been wanting to do it all day."

Santana's lips quirked into a small smile, and she bounced onto her toes to meet the blonde halfway. Brittany's eyes fluttered closed and she nearly melted. She had been waiting all day and it was so worth it. Santana's soft kisses were perfect and she was sure there would never be enough. They pulled away with a small sigh, staying close, enjoying each others presence.

"It's been a great night," Santana whispered. "Even with that little Abrams thing, today was great for me, thank you, Brittany."

"I really didn't do anything," Brittany laughed quietly.

"You just sat at a convention for who knows how long," Santana rolled her eyes playfully.

She smiled when Santana squinted at the clock on the wall, trying to figure out just how many hour they spent at the convention hall.

"Where are your glasses?"

"On my nightstand in the basement," Santana ran her hands through her hair looking around her house, a part of her was paranoid that Quinn would pop up any moment. They never brought people home like this. Even if Brittany was different, because they were taking it slow. "I left them there this morning."

"You sleep in your basement?" Brittany wasn't sure that she remembered seeing a bed in the basement.

"Yeah," Santana shrugged, "I actually... can't remember the last time I slept in my bedroom. It's a formality."

"Like, for show?"

"Quinn tells me people need real bedrooms," Santana shrugged. "I don't really get it, I would _live_ in the basement if there was a fridge."

"My apartment is loft style," Brittany smiled, "so sometimes I feel like the whole thing is my bedroom."

Santana laughed, pulling her button down out from her skirt, "That would be nice. Do you live by yourself?"

"I do," Brittany followed Santana into the kitchen and took the bottle of water she was offered from the fridge.

"I'm exhausted," Santana sighed from behind her water bottle, leaning against the counter. "You're crashing here?"

Brittany nodded lightly, shifting a little closer to the woman. Santana watched her move closer. It was something she found herself enjoying more and more, just watching Brittany close the distance between them. She couldn't describe how much she liked Brittany's ability to be confidently forward.

"You can sleep in my room," Santana offered because she wasn't sure what the boundaries were, "I'll crash in the basement."

Brittany leaned against the counter next to her, taking a sip from her water and slipping an arm around Santana's waist. The light kiss to her cheek made her intentions clear, this wasn't a come on, and this wasn't the night they were going to stop going slow, but it was a step in the right direction.

"I'd rather you sleep upstairs with me," Brittany said honestly.

Santana ran the water bottle over her bottom lip, pretending to consider it. She had been sold from the moment Brittany kissed her cheek.

"Let me get you some pajamas."


	19. Chapter 19

AN: Please note the change in the rating, I'm sure everyone knows what that means. To add to that, I wanted to thank my great number of reviewers that are reviewing to comment on the character development and general aspects of a growing relationship. It's really awesome to hear that people are reading for the characters and not for the chance that they're going to have sex. It's great that I still have people reading and the main characters didn't even kiss until chapter 15. Just wanted to say I appreciate it, and all of your wonderful support.

— Gorshenin.

* * *

><p>Santana really had forgotten the last time she had spent more than five minutes in this room. The dark walls seemed foreign and the decor almost spartan. The few personal artifacts on her dresser or the walls were put up by Quinn because she never got around to it.<p>

"I can tell you never spend any time in here," Brittany mused as she looked around unabashed. She picked up a picture frame of Santana and Quinn in matching jackets, she assumed they were from their sorority.

"Told you," Santana chuckled. She watched Brittany move around the room, but really all she was noticing was the way the blonde looked in her clothes.

She didn't know a tee shirt and cotton pants could be so flattering, but Brittany proved her wrong. It might have been something to do with the word _Lopez_ written in bold print across the back of Brittany's borrowed shirt. She hadn't planned on giving Brittany her old robotics team jersey, but when she saw it she had asked if she could wear it. Santana couldn't say no.

The lamp on the nightstand spread a warm light over the bedroom and caught Brittany's hair in just the right. Santana thought she looked rather stunning.

"You know," Santana started as she pulled the comforter down on the bed and sat down, "for as much as we go on about how life sucks for me because I'm pretty, I never asked you if you've ever been played that card too."

Brittany glanced over her shoulder with a sly smirk, "Was that you paying me a compliment?"

Santana blushed, tucking her legs under herself, "Brittany you're beautiful, I can't be the first to notice."

"No, you're not," Brittany laughed quietly and turned back to the dresser, she picked up what might have been a family photo. She wasn't sure who was family and who was step-people. "And to answer your question. Yeah, I've had my fair share of blonde jokes thrown at me."

"I'm sorry," Santana sympathized quietly and pulled the covers around herself.

"It's fine," Brittany shrugged, "I got used to it forever ago. Growing up with such a bad case of dyslexia, the blonde jokes were kind of unavoidable because everyone thought that I couldn't even read."

Santana's heart clenched at the thought, "Britt..."

When Brittany met her eyes, Santana was surprised at the light she found there.

"Santana, really," she smiled softly, moving towards the bed and settling down next to the brunette, "it was a long time ago."

"How," Santana wasn't sure she understood, "do you let go of things like that?"

Brittany gave her a half shrug and a small smile, "There's always more important things to worry about."

In that moment, Santana would have given anything to have the wisdom Brittany seemed to live by. She couldn't even fathom being able to let go of all the weight on her heart. She wasn't sure she would know what to do with herself if she was that free.

"You're so..." she whispered, "I... I wish I was more like you."

Brittany smiled to lighten the mood, but she knew Santana was being serious and she was touched by it.

"You're pretty awesome yourself," she fell back onto the pillows and stretched out next to her.

Santana watched Brittany's back arch, she saw the splash of blonde hair against the dark sheets, the sliver of pale skin between her shirt and the cotton fabric of her pants. Slowly, she lowered herself so she was laying next to Brittany, propped up on one elbow, and looking down at the best thing that's ever happened to her.

"Ask me a question," Santana prompted.

Brittany blinked a few times in surprise, the late night and the small buzz of alcohol in her system working against her mind, "What?"

"Ask me a question," Santana repeated, "anything."

Brittany licked her lips, unsure and weary of the sudden liberty.

"This isn't a trick, Britt," Santana chuckled at the look on her face, "I just... I don't know, you have a way of making me feel like I can be honest, and myself. I can't get enough of it really."

The smile that spread over Brittany's face was pleased and bashful at the same time, and Santana loved it.

"Alright," she looked up to the ceiling in thought, "let me think."

While she was thinking, Santana was busy looking. The best part was that she didn't have to be subtle about it. She didn't have to worry about who might catch her staring. If she wanted to appreciate Brittany's slim thighs, flat stomach, and perfect hour glass figure, she was allowed to do that in the comfort of her own home. In the comfort of her own bed... and if she was allowed to look, she should be allowed to touch.

Maybe it wasn't the most sound logic, but she went for it anyway.

Starting off with something nearly platonic, Santana took the hem of Brittany's shirt, her shirt, between her fingers and played idly with the material.

"What's your favorite movie?" Brittany asked from below her.

Santana didn't even have to think about it, "_Hard Candy_, have you ever seen it?"

"No," Brittany shook her head lightly, "what's it about?"

"Ellen Page convincing a pedophile to hang himself," a causal smirk spread over her lips as she said it.

Brittany's eyebrows rose a little, "Sounds... interesting."

"It was actually really well done," Santana chuckled, letting her fingers migrate from the hem of Brittany's shirt to tracing small patterns on her stomach lightly. "It's one of Quinn's favorites too."

"I'll just have to take your word for it," Brittany conceded. "Do you have any other tattoos besides the one from your sorority?"

Santana shook her head softly, "Do you have any tattoos?"

"No, I hear they hurt a lot," Brittany's nose scrunched up a little at the thought.

Santana bit her lip, finding the blonde cute in ways she didn't understand, "It's not that bad."

Brittany's face said she didn't believe her, but Santana didn't mind. Her fingers skated over Brittany's stomach, circling the small dip of her navel, trailing down to the hem of her pajama pants. She saw Brittany's foot twitch slightly out of the corner of her eye and Santana wanted to smirk.

"If you had finished med school," Brittany tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, "what kind of doctor do you think you would have become?"

"My father's an orthopedic surgeon," Santana thought for a moment, "but honestly, I've always wanted to work with children."

"Aww, Santana that so cute," Brittany cooed, making the woman above her blush lightly.

"Whatever," she shrugged it off with a blush. She focused on the ridge of Brittany's hip bone instead, and she felt a small twitch underneath of stomach muscles as she traced her thumb along it.

As they continued this little game, Santana watched the blonde's breathing get just a little shallower. A rosy dusting of a flush spreading over her cheeks. A few questions ago Brittany had squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to remain focused on the conversation. Santana wondered if it was helping at all. The desperate way her fingers were clutching the sheets beneath them told Santana it wasn't.

She had become a little more daring. Her softly brushing her fingers wandered the slope of Brittany's collar bone, making her shoulder shift with goosebumps. Through the valley between her breasts, and Brittany's breath caught in her throat, along her tensing stomach, and down to her thigh. Santana felt the strong muscles fidget under her palm, and when she gave a light squeeze, Brittany let out a short breath.

"Santana," Brittany covered her face with her hands. There was a small trace of warning, laced with a large amount of want, in her tone that made Santana's stomach flutter.

"Hey," she smiled softly, placing a quick kiss in the back of Brittany's hand. As she hoped, the blonde pulled her hands away from her face to meet the brunette's eyes.

She found such a warm excitement there that Brittany didn't need to ask another question to know where this was headed. Santana pressed their lips together, and Brittany was able to keep their kisses slow and sensual for at least a moment before all of Santana's teasing caught up with her.

Brittany felt like she needed every part of her body covered with Santana's hands, with her lips. She threw her arms around the Latina's neck and kissed her deeply. She felt a smile on Santana's lips and her hand on her thigh. Her fingers buried themselves in the dark hair that she had wanted to play with for weeks.

Teeth tugging at her bottom lip pulled a muffled gasp from the blonde. They shifted closer together, Santana's hand slipping under the thin fabric of Brittany's shirt, gingerly making a path up her torso. Brittany arched into her touch, urging her on with a fierce kiss.

Suddenly she knew exactly how Santana felt that night on the couch.

Brittany's lips trembled against Santana's as the small, warm, hand finally made it to her chest. Her own hands ran down Santana's back, under her shirt, and then back up. Santana shivered beneath her fingers, rolling her shoulders as Brittany's hands followed her ribcage, brushing lightly over the outer curve of her breasts.

Santana took in a shaky breath, trailing kisses from Brittany's mouth, along her jaw, then finally capturing a pale earlobe between her lips. A moan tumbled out and she wasn't sure if it was from Santana's fingers on her nipple or the teeth raking across her pulse point.

"Can I take this off?" Brittany tugged the material of her shirt lightly.

Santana blinked a few times, trying to get her mind to catch up to the question. She pulled away from Brittany's neck, meeting the dark blue eyes. For the first time, Brittany was letting her desire for Santana show in full, and the brunette was momentarily startled by intensity of it. After a breath of a pause, she found a reassurance mixed into them that let Santana push her insecurities aside.

"Only if yours goes too," a lopsided smile spread over her lips and Brittany couldn't help but lean up and kiss it.

Santana felt the hands on her shirt slowly start to work the material upward, and Brittany was gentle as she pulled it over Santana's shoulders and finally over her head. Santana held her breath as Brittany's eyes appreciated her. She watched a flash of pink wet the blonde's lips. Brittany reached out, her fingers running up Santana's sides, along the delicate curves of her breasts, then up her neck to cup her face. She pulled the brunette into a long kiss, whispering, "You're so beautiful."

Half naked and on fire, Santana had never felt like it was more true.

She felt Brittany shifting, guiding her onto her back, throwing a leg on the other side of Santana's. From her new position straddling Santana's hips, Brittany wasted no time grabbing the edge of her shirt and pulling it over her head. Santana's hands clutched tighter to Brittany's hips. Brittany smiled down at her with a hint of a mischievous glint in her eye.

She leaned down as Santana's hands moved up. She kissed Santana on the lips once before moving down to other, recently uncovered, territory. Her lips skimmed a collarbone lightly, making her way down the center of her chest, blonde hair tickled Santana's skin lightly. As she kissed a path between them, the warm skin Santana's breasts brushed her cheeks.

Santana didn't hold back the moan inspired by Brittany's mouth on her nipple. Brittany smiled into the soft flesh, letting her tongue dance over the hardened bud. The body under her squirmed at the sensation and Brittany shifted to accommodate. She slipped a thigh between Santana's and let their bodies fit together.

"Britt," Santana gasped from behind her teeth.

It started gently, a slow rhythm and gentle friction. Brittany was too caught up in the fingers exploring her scalp and nails raking over her shoulder to realized that the motions of their hips were getting away from them, turning into an insistent need and growing urgency.

Santana dared to take her turn at being forward. In a quick motion, she flipped them over. Brittany let out a surprised giggle and looked up at Santana from a mess of blonde hair. She returned the searing kiss Santana pressed to her lips, threading her fingers into the dark hair that fell around her face.

Santana broke away, a flash of hesitation in her eyes before she licked her lips and asked, "Can I?"

Her fingers asked the real question, playing idly with the drawstring of Brittany's borrowed cotton pajama pants. Brittany's eyes widened slightly, more in anticipation than surprise.

She kissed Santana's cheek lightly, "Yes."

Santana didn't rush. She kissed Brittany hotly, kissed her until she forgot what Santana had even asked. It wasn't until the nimble digits slipped under the cotton barriers and to the sensitive skin the guarded that Brittany gasped. A swell of sensation raced through her body, arms tensing instinctively around Santana's shoulders.

"Are you okay?" Santana asked softly in her ear.

"Mmhm," Brittany emitted a small noise of reassurance and Santana kissed her temple.

She was trying to keep it together, but on the inside, Santana was just as frazzled as the blonde. The woman as so wet. She worked her fingers slowly, delicately, loving the way Brittany squirmed underneath her touch. Brittany's breath was getting away from her, she felt as if her whole life was at the mercy of Santana's fingers. A brave pressure made itself known at her entrance and Santana's voice floated into her consciousness.

"Britt—"

"Please," she didn't even let Santana ask before her hips were canting suggestively.

Santana acted before she could lose her nerve, and her finger gently disappeared into the blonde. Brittany's nails bit into her shoulders for a moment before the steady rhythm took over. Brittany pulled Santana into a fiery kiss, she kissed her until they needed to break for air.

"Sa—Sa—" Brittany couldn't quite catch her breath, she clung desperately to Santana, who didn't let up. Using her own hips as leverage, she added another finger and watched Brittany throw her head back, "Oh, San."

Santana studied Brittany in her ecstasy. Her pale skin flushed pink, blonde hair simply everywhere, lips fallen open in an effort to capture enough air. She hadn't heard anyone use that nickname with her in this manner, laced with affection and desire, in such a long time.

She loved it.

This was one of the things Santana had never let herself hope for. Someone to bring home, someone worth breaking the rules for, someone to whisper sweet nothings to, someone to wake up with. She had never felt this way about anyone else before.

Brittany's eyes fluttered open, and she reached out to bring Santana in for a chaste kiss, keeping her close as her toes curled and her body tensed. Santana watched her break on the outside like she was quaking on the inside. She brought her down with all the care and tenderness that Brittany had ever shown her on a daily basis.

After a few orgasm dazed kisses, Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and spun them so she was laying on top, her head resting on Santana's chest. She caught her breath while Santana traced random patterns into her shoulder and played absently with her hair.

When her breathing evened out, Brittany shifted a little and Santana looked down from the ceiling to meet her smile with one of her own.

"I'm sorry," Brittany whispered, "this might not have been as slow as you wanted to take things, I didn't mean for this—"

Santana cut her off with a kiss, pulling back with a blushing smile, "I started it anyway."

"You did," Brittany laughed quietly, a devilish smirk coming across her features. She cupped Santana's face, tracing her thumb over the woman's beautifully pouted lips, "but I'm going to finish it."

Brittany kissed her again, and Santana didn't know why she hadn't started it sooner.

* * *

><p>The morning came soon enough. Brittany had woken up first, pressed comfortably against Santana's back. She laid still for a little bit of time, content to feel the smaller woman breathe against her. She didn't know how much time had passed, or how many times she had fallen in and out of sleep before Santana stirred in her arms.<p>

Brittany watched Santana roll over, a calm serenity to her features as she smiled up at the blonde. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and mumbled, "What time is it?"

Brittany glanced at the window and gauged the sunlight, "I'd say around nine, maybe ten?"

Santana groaned and Brittany chuckled into her hair. She knew it wasn't perfect timing, but she'd rather Santana feel peaceful and safe when she brought this up.

"Hey," she started quietly, and Santana waited for her to continued, "can we talk?"

Santana nodded softly, she should have expected the morning after drama, "Yeah, sure."

Brittany hesitated for just a moment before diving right in, "You've been keeping tabs on his career?"

Santana blinked at her. A harder focus coming into her eyes. This was not the conversation she expected. She wasn't sure which conversation she would rather have, but she didn't need any more explanation as to who _he_ was, "What do you mean?"

"Yesterday, at the convention, I heard you say something about him getting moved into an office," Brittany watched Santana realize what she was talking about.

"How much of that did you catch?"

"Just from," Brittany's eyes rolled up to the ceiling as she remembered and Santana wanted to smiled at the sight. Brittany was always so adorable when she was thinking hard about something, "the size of his office part, and you calling him a backstabber, and him calling you a whore."

Santana sucked her lip into her mouth and bit down softly. She felt so childish for getting into a shouting match with an old rival.

"And after I left," Santana asked because she needed to know, "what did he say?"

"He asked if I was happy at Clockwork," Brittany answered quietly. The rest of that conversation would come out later, but not right now. "I told him I was."

Santana nodded slowly, shifting a little more so she could see more of Brittany's face.

"Are you happier..." she couldn't quite finish the question, it was too important, too daunting.

Brittany knew exactly what she was asking, and the answer was irrefutably, "Yes."

She reached into the covers and found one of Santana's hands, interlacing their fingers naturally. Santana took a great comfort in that. She loved the feeling of their hands together, and started brushing her thumb over Brittany's knuckles.

"What does he mean to you, that you would keep tabs on his career?" Brittany asked. "Is it just a way for you to measure yourself against him? To prove that you're better?"

It was a rough question and a defensive quality flashed through Santana's eyes, "That's not it at all."

Brittany's eyebrows prompted her to continue, and her eyes held no judgment, just honest curiosity.

"Okay," Santana ran her hand over her chin, "okay, maybe there's a rivalry there... but that's not what it's about. At least not all of it."

"Talk to me about this," Brittany whispered softly, "I want to understand."

Santana shifted, licking her lips and taking a small breath.

"He—he was my friend," Santana's voice was laced with a longstanding disappointment, "he was one of my best friends..."

"At UCLA?" Brittany coaxed softly.

"We met in a robotics class," she let her eyes fall closed, wishing this was just a story she was making up. "He was my table partner and… I don't know, we just clicked. We started doing projects together, and then we started hanging out, and everything just snowballed."

Brittany tried to picture it. Artie and Santana together at a campus library, working at a computer lab, sitting in class together. It was really hard to do.

"I wouldn't have changed my major if I hadn't of met him," Santana continued quietly, "and he was there for me when my parents flipped out. We got really close and... long story short, we both applied for internships at Clockwork. It was a really big opportunity and we both knew it."

Santana thought back to how much work she spent on that application. The long nights, the projects, the essays. She had put so much of herself into every little aspect of it.

"I got it and he didn't," she whispered. "The shitty part was that he hadn't made a backup plan, he didn't apply anywhere else so when he didn't get it, he was screwed."

Brittany could hear honest sympathy in her voice for a friend in a bad situation.

"We had a huge falling out. It got pretty ugly."

There was so much more to it than that, but Brittany asked, "Did he start to resent you because you were accepted and he wasn't?"

"It's not just that. He didn't understand _why_ I was accepted and he wasn't," Santana let out a harsh breath, "so he started looking into it. _Apparently_, someone on the acceptance board was an Alumni of my sorority... so that was an unfair advantage in my favor. He thought that I had somehow gotten Holly to sabotage his reference letter. She always liked me more than him, and he knew it, and he hated it."

Brittany realized that Santana's first, and most longstanding, battle to prove herself was with Artie Abrams.

"He started telling everyone I was sleeping with her for my grades," Santana chuckled bitterly, "which was bullshit because we did all of our homework and projects together, so he fucking knew that I knew my shit."

"I'm so sorry Santana," Brittany wished it could help. She wished there was something she could do.

"Don't worry about it, its old news," Santana gave her a half shrug. "The best part was, on top of all of that... he... I think he had a thing for Tina. When we first started going out, he was always so standoffish about it. Tina thought he might have been jealous. I didn't really think that was it, but maybe I was just being an idiot."

Brittany didn't want to admit it, but maybe Artie had a point. Santana had been accepted into the internship Artie had wanted, the attention from their an influencing professor, and even the girl he was interested in. Everything that seemed important at the time, what would have felt like the entire world to a college student, was taken by Santana.

"So yeah," Santana admitted brashly, "it's nice to see that I've become more successful than him because he turned into such a douche, but… I still want to know if he's doing alright just because we were close once, you know?"

"I get it," Brittany hoped she knew that she understood to the best of her abilities.

"It's not like the Clockwork thing has really been a dream anyway," Santana rolled her eyes, "at least he would have been able to actually do what he loves if he was there, instead of just being a poster girl."

Brittany frowned lightly, "I don't think that's entirely accurate."

"It's totally true though," Santana pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Maybe that's another reason he hates me, I'm totally wasting the opportunity I was given by being too fucking pretty. Maybe he should have gotten that internship."

"Don't say that," Brittany coaxed, "you deserve to be where you are."

"I just wish I felt that way sometimes."

"I wish there was something I could do," Brittany admitted quietly, pulling her closer and hoping she could feel the sincerity of her words. "I wish I could make it all better."

Santana slipped her waist and held her close, "If everything works out the way we planned, your feature will take care of everything."

"I just don't want to let you down," Brittany admitted her fear openly.

"Britt," Santana kissed her lightly, "don't even stress about it. I've read your stuff, it's great, you're great. You're going to do the very best you can, like you always do, and it will be perfect."

Brittany smiled a little but she still wasn't convinced. She didn't have much time to dwell on it before Santana was getting out of bed, throwing her shirt on and looking around for her pajama pants.

"I'm starving," she mumbled as she pulled her pants on. "You up for breakfast?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Oatmeal," Santana rummaged through a drawer until she found a hair tie so she could put her hair up.

"Oatmeal?" Brittany repeated, crossing the room to meet the Latina as she pulled down her shirt.

"Yeah," Santana blinked a few times, she needed to go find her glasses, "I make killer oatmeal. What's wrong with oatmeal?"

Brittany laughed, putting her hands on Santana's shoulders so she could keep her still long enough to place a kiss on her forehead, "There's nothing wrong with oatmeal. I guess it's just not the first thing to come to mind when I'm thinking about breakfast food."

Santana could see the point in that, "What do you think about?"

"I don't know," she really didn't care what she was eating as long as it was with Santana, "like pancakes or bacon."

Santana's nose scrunched in a distasteful look, "Ew, I hate pancakes. They're just carbs in patty form, and don't even get me started on bacon."

"Is that why you eat oatmeal," Brittany's head tilted as she asked it, "because it's healthy?"

"Low fat, low carb, crazy photo shoot diet aside," Santana scoffed with a trace of a blush, "my oatmeal is the best thing ever."

"You're just going to have to show me," Brittany smiled playfully and Santana didn't need another excuse to grab her hand and lead her out of the room.

* * *

><p>After a quick shower, Brittany wandered into the kitchen just as Santana was finishing up a phone call with Quinn and the last touches to their breakfast. She handed Brittany a bowl of oatmeal and they settled onto the couch. Santana turned on the television, handing the remote to Brittany.<p>

"Pick whatever you want."

Brittany flipped through the channels until she found a documentary on _Animal Planet_. They learned about the secret lives of domestic waterfowl while they ate their breakfast. Brittany wasn't sure if it was the fresh fruit mixed in, or the fact that Santana had made it for her, but this was the best oatmeal she had ever tasted. Much better than pancakes.

"Did you ever plan on, like," Brittany asked offhandedly, "settling down, or whatever?"

"What do you mean?" Santana glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, "I think I'm pretty settled."

"You live with your best friend, in a beautiful house," Brittany explained, looking around like it explained her question.

"Yes," Santana nodded slowly, this was the kind of conversation she had expected earlier this morning, "and I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

"No," Brittany smiled reassuringly, "but what happens if one of you meets someone? Who gets the house?"

"You make it sound like it's a divorce," Santana chuckled and placed her empty bowl on the coffee table. "Honestly, the house is in my name, I make a little more than Q and once I saw the basement space, I just had to have it, but she furnished everything because I have absolutely no patients for that kind of thing."

"Is that why you refuse to use the coasters?" Brittany teased, placing her bowl next to Santana's.

"Maybe," Santana smiled ruefully as she thought for a moment. Santana had the idea that this conversation should have been a little more awkward. She supposed Brittany's genuine curiosity kept it from getting there. "I guess... I always assumed she would meet someone and move out, eventually."

Brittany wanted to ask where that would leave Santana, but she knew the answer. If, and when, Quinn met someone and moved out, Santana would stay here in this house. Alone. Santana had never planed to meet anyone. She was as settled as she had ever pictured herself to be.

Santana seemed to be thinking over the same thing, because when she spoke next her voice was a little fragile, "I'm really glad you're here, Britt."

Brittany reached out, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist, and pulling the woman into her. Santana's reaction was immediate and natural. Curling into Brittany's body and resting her head on the blonde's shoulder.

Sitting on this couch, watching television with this woman, Brittany was sure, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."


	20. Chapter 20

This morning's COG had been a blur for Brittany. Not that the new plans for data mining weren't interesting to her, it was just that she had a lot to write about. Her pen rarely left her notebook. Deadlines were coming up and she still had a lot to write. Her only problem was that she wasn't sure what to write.

Lack of material wasn't the issue, she had plenty to go off of, the problem arose when she found herself hesitating to reveal too much of Santana's story, and the only reason she was here, was to tell Santana's story. But how much was too much? What was too personal? She knew, of course, that Santana and Quinn had the rights to a final edit and approval, but she didn't want it to get to that point. Brittany wanted to do it right the first time.

If she did that, if she revealed too much, she was honestly scared that she would break this delicate bridge of trust between herself and Santana. She knew that Santana had only been disclosing certain things about herself because they had become romantically involved. Maybe that had made it easier for the brunette.

Brittany glanced at the woman next to her.

Santana was listening closely to the presenter and Brittany wasn't surprised, it was her job to. Santana always took her work very seriously. Her brow was furrowed slightly as she read the notes on the screen in front of her. Brittany watched her lips tuck to one side before she took a breath and asked the presenter a question. Brittany could tell it wasn't the answer she wanted to hear by way her eyes narrowed just a twitch at the corners. She looked back to her notebook to hide a smile and Santana continued the questioning.

When she first arrived to Clockwork, she may have found Santana's ability to pick apart presentations to be ruthless. After sitting though these meetings, and seeing the presenters come back a week or so later with a better version of their original idea, Brittany didn't feel it was anything more than quality assurance. Santana was the one making all the executive decisions about these products after all. Everything that happened in this room reflected on her and Brittany knew exactly what that meant to the brunette.

"Hey," Brittany leaned over when someone else was asking the presenter a question.

"Hm?" Santana made a soft noise to let her know she was listening without drawing too much attention to them or taking her eyes away from the computer.

"Can we go somewhere for lunch?" she asked, leaning a little closer, so their shoulders brushed lightly, "Like, the park down the street?"

Santana had been reading the notes on her screen, or at least trying. The words seemed to blur as Brittany's breath tickled her ear.

"Yeah sure," she mumbled. It was so much harder to keep herself in check when even the most platonic of gestures reminded her of... not so platonic things they had done. "Wherever you want, Brittany."

Brittany grinned and shifted into her own seat fully, leaning back and crossing her legs at the knee causally. Santana's eyes were drawn by the motion, the mundane rearranging of limbs. Slender ivory limbs. She blinked back to her screen before Brittany, or anyone else, could notice her indiscretion. That woman could rock a skirt with the best of them, and those heels—Santana had been struggling to focus all morning long.

Brittany smiled to herself, because didn't need to be watching her eyes to know Santana had been checking her out. She just knew.

She swirled the tip of her pen along the paper, drawing a small doodle in the top corner. It was some sort of little amoeba monster, with an angry face and everything. She added a speech bubble for good measure. Brittany was about to write something silly in the bubble; _rawr_, or something to that effect, when her pen was stolen.

Her eyes found Santana's momentarily before the Latina was focused entirely on her notebook, filling in the speech bubble with a single, perfectly symmetrical, heart.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth to keep herself from smiling too widely. It was a ridiculous precaution, because she was sure it was in her eyes, and when she met Santana's she knew. The warm flourish in her heart was certainly reflected in those chocolate orbs.

Santana held out her pen, and with a nearly shaky hand, Brittany took it back. Or at least she tried. Santana held on for just a bare moment. It was subtle, but enough for Brittany to have to tug again, the smile spilling past her defenses and onto her face unabashed. As soon as it had, Santana released the pen and turned back to her computer, as if nothing had ever happened.

Brittany bit her lip and buried her face in her notebook. The doodle in the corner was a reminder of how Santana could her make her feel with even the smallest of gestures.

* * *

><p>The park down the street was actually beautiful and Santana wasn't sure how she had never been here before. She had kept herself locked up in her office for too long.<p>

"Have you been to that bakery before?" Santana asked, crumpling the wax paper from her sandwich and tossing it in the trashcan next to the bench they were sitting on.

"No," Brittany shrugged, "but I pass it every day coming to work and always wanted to try it."

"I've never noticed it before," Santana admitted, "I didn't even know this park was here."

It was a quaint little space, just enough room for a dozen or so trees and a small lot of grass. The paved paths were full of dog walkers and a few joggers cutting through the block. Santana watched them pass with an genuine curiosity. All these people seemed so happy, free in the fresh air, it didn't look like they had a single worry in the world. She was kind of jealous.

"Sometimes, I think you give too much of yourself to Clockwork," Brittany picked a the crust of her sandwich, "I mean, I know your job is a lot of work, but it doesn't seem like you have any time for yourself, and if Clockwork isn't going to appreciate how much you sacrifice anyway, what's the point of working to the bone?"

"I can't just slack off because they're not singing my praises," Santana's brow furrowed. "It's funny how no one notices when I stay until nine or ten at night, but they have no problem pointing out the one day I'm twenty minutes late because a five car pile up locked down traffic."

"Santana, I'm not trying to say that I don't respect how much you've sacrificed to get to where you are, or that I don't get what it means to you," Brittany hoped this wasn't too insensitive, "but there's more to life than your job."

"So people tell me," Santana muttered under her breath.

"Like, are you planning on going back to Ohio for your stepsister's thing?" Brittany asked, "or are you _deciding_ that your work is too important? Kurt told me last week that you haven't taken a vacation in a year."

She knew Brittany was only saying that because she cared. Brittany genuinely cared, and after the other night, she knew Santana had never planned to meet anyone, settle down, or move past focusing on her career.

Her career... was bordering on an obsessive need to prove herself. She wasn't even sure who she was trying to prove it to anymore. Santana had lived her whole life label to label. Constantly trying to find the one that made her happy. Did she even want the label as Head of IT? Would the proof that she deserved it make her happy? She thought back to why she had agreed to this feature in the first place.

Hopefully everything will work out the way she had planned.

"I'm sorry," Brittany apologized softly, "I didn't mean to—"

"No," Santana turned away from the man with three dogs to meet Brittany's eyes, "you're right Britt. It's just a lot for me to think about... but I need to start taking it seriously," she glanced at her shoes, then back to Brittany in a shy manner, "because, there _are_ more important things to worry about."

The rosy flush that spread over Brittany's face was more adorable than the pleased smile she couldn't hide. Santana found herself smiling along. It was impossible not to when Brittany made it look so easy.

"We should come here more often," Santana looked around again, "I kind of like getting out of the office."

"I thought you would," Brittany agreed, "and honestly, I was struggling in this morning's COG."

"What do you mean?" Santana asked curiously, normally Brittany asked her to clarify things when she didn't understand them.

"That whole business intelligence thing. I know that you started pushing the idea, what was it, two years ago?" Brittany asked more to herself than to Santana. "When Clockwork was more of a customer based company, like, personal computers and stuff like that. Now it's pushing out software for this big business management movement, and the guy that was presenting was acting like you didn't know what the concept was," Brittany hand waved a little agitatedly, "when it was your concept to begin with."

Santana stared at her for a moment, Brittany had really done her research.

"You're amazing."

"What, because I actually pay attention to the things you guys talk about?" Brittany chuckled, she was trying to make light of it, but she knew exactly what it meant to Santana. "I mean, it's kinda hard sometimes because I sit next to this girl, and she's so pretty that sometimes I can't help but listen to every word that comes out of her mouth."

Santana laughed, shoving the blonde lightly on the shoulder, "Shut up. I wish that's what people thought."

"Well, it's what I think," Brittany smiled softly, "so that's all that matters."

Santana flushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear to hide it.

* * *

><p>"Oh, hold up," Brittany paused their short walk back to Clockwork when they passed a news stand, a familiar cover catching her eye. She paid the vendor and picked up a fresh copy of <em>The Lead<em>. "I want to see how Sebastian did on the convention coverage."

Santana nodded understandingly, she had a growing fondness of the magazine. They continued down the sidewalk, Brittany skimming the pages while Santana made sure she didn't walk into anyone or anything. They made it about halfway down the block before Brittany stopped dead in her tracks.

"I can't believe this," Brittany's eyes were mix of disbelief bordering on anger.

"What's up?" Santana glanced back, concerned.

"He—he interviewed Artie," Brittany's fingers clenched around the glossy pages, "I—why would he—"

"I'm guessing he didn't have anything nice to say," Santana assumed quietly, depending on when the reporter got a hold of the man, Artie could have been in an very unforgiving mood. Santana's stomach dropped a little. "Is it that bad?"

"No, editing wouldn't let someone trash Clockwork blatantly when we have a standing contract with them," Brittany sighed, closing the magazine and tucking it under her arm, "but it's just... wordplay."

Santana knew what she meant. Underhanded, passive aggressive, suggestions. Statements that alluded to an insult but weren't so obvious.

"They probably didn't even realize he was talking about Clockwork," Brittany ran her hand through her hair. Her heart was sinking, and her stomach tight. She couldn't believe this was happening, "Rachel isn't in the office this week, she never would have let this print."

Santana let out a short laugh, "Don't tell me she's on vacation in San Antonio."

Brittany sent her an apologetic look and Santana could see worry in her eyes.

"Come on," Santana gestured down the street, "let's get back to the office and figure this out."

Brittany understood, Santana wanted to be in the privacy of her office before she let herself worry too much about it. The strong air of indifference was a hard ruse to keep up. She wasn't about to show anyone in the lobby a hint of what was going on in her head.

* * *

><p>Brittany felt horrible, like she had let Santana down in some way. This was her magazine, publishing Santana's biggest rival. Her own version of an arch nemesis, making snide, underhanded comments about <em>other<em> companies and the way their marketing had to resort to shameless sex appeal to get people to buy their product.

"_A version of cooperate prostitution_," Santana read off in a mumble.

"I don't understand how this got through editing," Brittany's thumb was already on the keys of her phone, calling Rachel.

Santana threw the magazine on the desk, she had read it in the elevator. She walked past Brittany's desk, where the blonde had sank dejectedly into her seat. Santana didn't hesitate to kiss the woman lightly on the top of her head as she passed.

"This isn't your fault Britt," she sighed, "don't worry too much."

Brittany still didn't look convinced, "Hey Rachel, look something serious just came up..."

While Santana listened to her explain the situation to her boss, she stepped up to the wall of windows. She glanced at the clock, Kurt was taking a long lunch with Blaine, so he wouldn't be back for another half an hour and she was glad for it. She didn't need another person just waiting for her to break down.

"Cooperate prostitution," Santana repeated to herself. "I use my body, to sell computers."

It hurt. Having Artie say that, in Brittany's magazine nonetheless, she knew he was trying to be malicious. He knew it would hurt her, and her reputation, and her credibility.

"You create products that people want to buy," Brittany corrected her from behind her.

Santana startled for a moment because she didn't notice that Brittany had disconnected the phone call. She was comforted by the arms wrapping around her waist, a soft kiss on her shoulder.

"Just because you pose with it, doesn't mean it's any less of a product."

Santana thought about Brittany's words. She wanted to believe them, and maybe on some level, they were actually getting through to her. She hadn't closed down yet. She wanted to call Quinn, but without the desperation that she might have felt before she met the journalist. Santana was slowly letting herself accept what people, like Artie, thought of her, and letting it all just... roll off her shoulders.

There were more important things to worry about, like Brittany.

Santana couldn't help but feel like this was an attack on Brittany too. Maybe he was trying to create tension between them by using Brittany's publication against her.

Was he still bitter over the breakup?

"Pissing me off isn't his only angle here," Santana started quietly, "he used _The Lead_ for his little games on purpose. I think he's trying to either sabotage the feature or cause something between us. He—" her voice dropped, "he's done this before."

"He's the reason you broke up with Tina."

Santana stiffened in her arms. Honestly, she wasn't surprised that Brittany had connected that particular dot. It was a large one and hard to miss. She just wasn't sure what Brittany had assumed from all the bits and pieces she's heard.

"He made it pretty hard not to," Santana let out a burst of bitter laughter, "I feel like I stole his girl all over again."

"Santana," Brittany spoke softly into her ear, "the way he was going, he basically threw me at you. He's just jealous that we have a something special and he's stuck with a raincloud."

Santana turned in her arms, looking up at the blonde with the barest of smiles on her face. Her dark eyes skated back and forth between Brittany's, searching for a sincerity that she found easily.

"Something special?" she repeated in a breath.

"Very much so," she accentuated her answer by placing her hand on Santana's cheek and slowly pulling her into a kiss. It wasn't long before the hint of a smile Santana had been sporting turned into a lopsided grin. Again, things that would have sent her running into her basement to just get away, seemed so much easier to brush off when Brittany was smiling down at her.

Santana started playing with the scarf wrapped around Brittany's neck, "So... what happens now? What did Rachel have to say?"

"She's really mad," Brittany quirked an exasperated smile. "My editor is getting an earful I'm sure. Worst case scenario is that Clockwork gets wind of it and the feature is canceled..."

Santana's brow furrowed, her mind already working to think of a way to keep that from happening.

"Which would _suck_, don't get me wrong, but I've always been a glass half full kind of girl, so even if that happened..." Brittany gave her a shy half shrug. If her professional dreams were destroyed, perhaps there might be at least one thing to salvage from the experience, "I would hope that without a contract binding us to professional discretion, we could..."

Santana felt herself smiling, she had never been a glass half full kind of girl. Her glass was always decidedly half empty, and more often than not, she always felt someone had stolen what was missing from it, but she would take any glass Brittany S. Pierce handed her.

"I would love to," Santana brought Brittany's hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles gently. "You want to get out of here?"

Brittany sent her a curious look, "And go?"

"I haven't been to the gym this week," a spark of something mischievous flashed across her eyes, "and I think it's time for a rematch."

* * *

><p>When you think of a nice relaxing evening, racquetball might not have been on the top of the list. Santana and Brittany, however, thought it was a dream come true. They needed this. To get locked in a room with nothing but themselves and a great way to blow off some steam.<p>

Today had really crawled under Brittany's skin. She had always know that Artie had something against Santana, and in light of their history he might even be justified in some way. A pathetic and petty way, but she was sure it was enough for him. College drama aside, what had shaken her so much about today was his ability to be openly ruthless.

Using _her _magazine to attack Santana?

That was a low she had never seen from him before, and more and more, she started questioning herself. How could she have stayed with him for so long and not notice that he was capable of such hostility. She felt like an idiot admitting that she had once found him charming and funny. Now, she figured all that witty sarcasm might have just been thinly masked bitterness and spite.

She was too caught up in her thoughts to return Santana's serve in time.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Santana teased lightly as she scuffed her tennis shoe on the hard wood of the serving box. She knew Brittany hadn't been paying attention, and she was a little worried that her game of distraction wasn't working.

Brittany didn't reply, shaking her head to clear her mind, she resettled into the game and sent the brunette a playful warning look that told Santana that she was fine, and ready to play. Santana smirked back at her and bounced the ball a few times before serving. Brittany was quick to return it and their volley started out strong. Brittany knew Santana wasn't being too competitive. They had walked onto the court to have fun with each other, spend time together, move past the events of today. That didn't mean she couldn't take advantage of a great setup she found and drive the ball hard into the right corner.

"Damn," Santana let out a hot breath, picking up the ball after it rolled towards her.

"Is that a little better?" Brittany smirked, crossing the room to get to the serving box.

Santana licked her lips, holding out the rubber ball for the blonde.

"Thank you," Brittany grinned, taking the ball from the brunette and letting their fingers brush against each other.

Santana kept her eyes on Brittany's as she walked to the back of the court and Brittany was barely able to keep from shivering under her gaze. She was trying to throw Brittany off her game, and Brittany hoped it wasn't working. She was only down by four, and she wanted to either keep it that way, or actually gain some ground on the Latina.

Her serve was near perfect. She was getting a lot better at this, and Santana could tell. She was almost worried. They rallied back and fourth, not allowing either the luxury of an easy game. Brittany took a few steps backwards, positioning herself to hit a ball that bounced high, she was so focused on the ball that she didn't notice Santana behind her until she touched her lightly.

"Watch out," she shuffled out of the way, letting her hand skate along Brittany's lower back, trailing to her hip before she stepped away completely, "I'm right behind you."

It was a soft brush, but with the placement of that hand, and startled at the sudden presence behind her, Brittany's swing was completely off target. She had missed the ball completely and it bounced mockingly towards the back wall. Brittany frowned at herself, eying the guiltless smile on Santana's face when she asked, "My serve?"

"Yeah," Brittany spun the racket in her hand. She wasn't sure if that had been on purpose. Even if it was, she wasn't sure she was complaining.

"Eight, four," Santana gave the score as she stepped into the serving box. She sent Brittany a look from behind her bangs that made Brittany's heart race for an entirely different reason.

The next few rallies were a little interesting. She wasn't sure if it was chance, or if Santana was somehow good enough to angle her shots so that Brittany had to brush by the woman to return the ball. If she was doing it on purpose, Santana was being a great actress about it. She made sure to get out of the way as Brittany passed, but only just in time, and nearly always skimming an elbow, hand, forearm, or calf against some part of Brittany's body.

It didn't take long before Brittany knew she was being messed with.

After a particularly brazen graze across her butt, she missed the ball again, and nearly tipped over her own feet.

"My point?" Santana asked with an innocent look that Brittany didn't believe for a second.

"You're doing that on purpose," Brittany glared playfully, an amused smile on her face.

"Doing what?" Santana scratched her nose to hide the way the corners of her mouth were twitching into a guilty smile.

"You know what," Brittany shook her head, unable to keep from laughing.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about," Santana picked up the ball and headed to the serving box. "Eleven, four."

"That doesn't even count," Brittany argued, putting her hands on her hips.

"What are you talking about?" The confused expression on Santana's face was flawless except for the gleam in her eyes. "What did I do wrong?"

"I don't know what it's called," Brittany waved a hand around trying to pull the word out of thin air, "when you interfere with another player."

Santana's lips pulled into a puzzled frown as she let Brittany figure it out for herself.

"Yeah, that's totally it," she snapped her fingers together, a proud smile coming to her face, "_interference_, Santana. What you're doing is called interference."

"Hey now," she held up hands, "it's only interference if you physically prevent a player from striking the ball, it's not my fault you keep missing."

Brittany stared at her disbelievingly, "You're kidding me."

"I'm sorry, Britt," she grinned shamelessly, putting one hand on her hip in a playful attitude Brittany had never seen before, "but thems the rules."

"Thems the rules?" Brittany repeated slowly.

Santana blushed, "Don't make fun of my slang."

"It's cute," Brittany admitted, making Santana blush darker, "but your cheating isn't."

"It's not cheating if you can't stay away from me," Santana said slyly, "that's on you."

Brittany laughed, "Just serve."

Santana sent her another smile before they continued their game. She made sure to keep her distance and Brittany ended up only losing by three.

"You are getting a lot better at this," Santana admitted, "you might even beat me next time."

"I plan to," Brittany gave her a flirty smile and Santana couldn't wait for the next time they played together.

They made it to the door and Santana paused, wanting to linger in the privacy the racquetball court offered.

"Hey, um," she wasn't sure how to put this, "thanks for coming to play with me. I needed to get out of Clockwork."

Brittany nodded with a sympathetic smile, "Trust me, I did too."

"What you said earlier," Santana kept her eyes on the racket in her hand, "about how if we didn't have the contract kind of working against us, we could be more of a... an us."

Brittany wanted to smile at the way Santana couldn't quite express herself, it was adorable.

"I was thinking about it," she scuffed her tennis shoe along the hardwood, "and I know it's, um, silly, but I'd like to become an us, officially, that is."

"It's not silly at all," Brittany leaned forward and kissed her, warm with Santana's words and the flutter in her heart. She was so happy. "It's awesome, actually."

* * *

><p>Rachel has asked her to run into the office and check her mail, just in case Clockwork was that quick to dismiss their contract, or serve them with lawsuit papers. They hadn't, and that was no surprised to Brittany. Santana would make sure she knew before anyone else, but Rachel had asked. As she crept through the dimmed floor of cubicles in the writer's pen and towards the front door, she almost missed working here. Listening to the flutter of paper around her, the steady clatter of fingers on keyboards, and people bouncing idea's off of each other was actually one of her favorite parts of this job.<p>

No matter how much she missed this, she would miss Santana, her girlfriend, so more.

A sharp clattering sound drew her attention towards one of the cubicles. In the dark she could barely make out the figure's face.

"Will?" she stepped closer, "what are you doing here?"

He could have asked her the same thing, instead he asked, "Did Rachel send you to make sure I'm packing my stuff?"

"What?"

"She fired me, Brittany," his eyes were cast into a dark shadow but her skin crawled with the tone of his voice. "She fired me for _your_ mistake."

"My mistake?" Brittany felt her hands tighten around the cuffs of her hoodie.

He threw a few notebooks into a cardboard box he had been filling, "You were supposed to take Sebastian around and show him what the convention was all about, make sure he knew what he was doing!"

"I showed him the convention floor," Brittany tried to keep her voice steady, "it wasn't my job to approve who he was interviewing, that was his editors job. Your job."

"And you couldn't have mentioned to him that Orbit is the one company he shouldn't have been interviewing? It just seems like that's kind of important Brittany."

His tone took a turn for the disdainful.

"Even if I had," Brittany wasn't going to let him just pin the blame on her, "the article still shouldn't have run, it wasn't even about the convention. It was about one guys horrible opinion of his competitors."

"Oh, who doesn't love drama?" Will threw his arms into the air.

"We're not a tabloid Will," Brittany seethed. "Rachel would have never let that print. It wasn't professional at all."

"And What's so professional about ditching Sebastian after a two minute tour because you can't stand to leave your precious feature subject? You blew him off Brittany. He told me that you didn't even spend twenty minutes with him!"

She was glad for the dimmed lights because she was sure the flush on her face was incriminating. She had been rather short with Sebastian... she had checked the block and moved on to what was important to her. Santana.

Would she have realized who he intended to interview if she had spent a little more time with him?

Was this her fault?

Did she ruin Santana's chance to show everyone that she was worth more than her body?

* * *

><p>Brittany had always understood that when people react out of anger, they take their feelings and they push them off to the nearest and most readily available outlet. They didn't always realize what the effects of their assault might be at the time. It wasn't until they settled down to start to finally think about what the real problem was. How they could have handled the situation better.<p>

She had been thinking about the situation the entire car ride to this apartment. She had thought about it, and she knew that she wasn't in the best frame of mind to have this conversation, but she would think about that later.

She knocked hard because this wasn't a friendly visit, and she knew better than to think Artie had fixed his doorbell. It was a moment before the door opened and she was almost amused at his surprised look.

"Brittany," he glanced around the hall, "what are you doing here?"

"Are you trying to ruin this feature for me?" she asked with a steady voice. It wouldn't do her any good to get too angry, even though her shouting match with Will was still working through her system. She just wanted to get as much information as she could and get out.

"What?" his expression was a blindsided. "What are you talking about?"

"You were interviewed by _The Lead_ at that convention and you used it to attack Santana."

The sharp quality of her words didn't escape him, nor the narrow anger in her eyes.

"I never mentioned Clockwork or her—"

"By name," Brittany cut him off, "you never mentioned them _by name_, but everyone in the business would know who you're talking about."

"How would you know what people in the business would think?" he asked darkly. "You're a _reporter_ Brittany."

That was insulting and he knew it.

"Just because you never taught me anything about your work doesn't mean Santana is the same way," she crossed her arms over her chest too keep them from shaking in her anger. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You know _The Lead_ has a contract with Clockwork, and you knew what you said in that interview could jeopardize it."

"It's not my fault they actually published it," he shrugged arrogantly. "It looks like your guys in editing are the ones trying to ruin it for you, not me."

"Artie, you need to get over this crap that happened back in college," Brittany shook her head, "it was literally years ago."

"You don't know anything about it," his eyes darkened.

"I know you used to be friends," Brittany replied evenly, "until you couldn't get over the fact that she was better than you."

"She's not better than me."

"Maybe not," Brittany rolled her eyes because that wasn't the point, "but at the time, to the people picking who got the internship, _she was_, and you need to get over it. Stop trying to ruin her life, it's not making yours any better."

"What's it matter?" he was belligerent, and she knew none of this was getting through to him. "Like you said, she's not my friend anymore."

He was lost in his hatred and it was kind of heartbreaking. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on why she was actually here, but all of her anger was disappearing and turning into a dreadful sort of despair. The idea that she might have ruined everything was finally catching up with her.

"So... because I broke up with you," Brittany's voice broke a little as she said it, "it's okay to ruin my career?"

Artie's eyes fell to the ground.

"To take everything I've worked for—and I've worked so hard for this Artie, you know that..." Brittany whispered to keep her voice steady, but she could hear how fragile she sounded, "I've been working for this for years, and you want to take it and use it as a way to get back at a college rival."

He shifted awkwardly in his chair, listening to her break down in the hallway of his apartment complex.

"Yeah, I ended it Artie," she couldn't keep the tear from rolling down her cheek. "I ended it, but when we were together, I was good to you. You can't say I wasn't."

He couldn't deny that.

"So please," she hastily brushed off her face, "out of some sort of respect for what we had, please leave this alone."

He didn't meet her eyes when he said, "I won't do anything that might risk the feature."

She caught the underhanded way he wasn't promising to leave Santana alone.

"Please, leave Santana alone."

"I can't."

His words were so resolute, so definitive, that it actually scared Brittany. Then, after that small moment, her anger rekindled itself into a version of protective force.

"You don't understand," he went on quietly, "I can't—"

"I'm in love with her."

They weren't sure who was more surprised by her words, but Brittany had a audacity to look proud about it. Even through her tears.

"I _hate_ that you're the first person I've told this to," she clutched her arms around herself tighter, "but it's the truth. I am in love with her."

"Brittany—"

"And yeah, thanks to assholes like you, she's just as bitter as you are, and rightfully so," Brittany pressed on, because once you start an angry heartfelt confession, you can't stop. "But I love that she's trying to work past that in spite of what you've done to her. I love the way she goes to work everyday with the weight of the world on her shoulders and still manages to give the people around her the time of day. I love that despite how broken and fragile her heart is, she can still manage to wear it on her sleeve."

"Stop—"

"I love her," her voice fell to a mere whisper, "more than I've ever loved—"

"Please, stop," Artie's harsh bark shook Brittany out of her emotional tangent. "I get it, please, just stop."

Brittany flushed, watching him glare a hole into the floor.

"I'm not saying it to hurt you," she admitted when she had calmed down a little, "I'm saying it because I—I would appreciate it if you wouldn't try to ruin that for me too."

"So, everyone get's to be happy but me?"

"I think you're keeping yourself from being happy," Brittany frowned synthetically kicking the cheap carpet in the hallway, "and like I said, hurting other people isn't going to get your there."

She turned to leave, because she had said what she needed to, and then some.

"Brittany," Artie's voice turned her around. She found a hesitant look on his face, a small ounce of regret. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry, for everything."

She offered him a small smile, because she couldn't forgive him just yet. Not when she had the feeling that he was apologizing for more than than what they had just been talking about.


	21. Chapter 21

Santana set her Bluetooth receiver on her ear and answered the call, "Q."

_"San."_

Santana couldn't help but smile, it was good to hear Quinn's voice. Besides, she was still riding a wave of bliss from the racquetball game earlier... and everything that happened after.

She was actually interested when she asked, "How's the conference going?"

_"Just as redundant as I thought it would be,"_ Quinn sighed and Santana could almost hear her rolling her eyes, _"but it looks good on a resume, so I'll take it."_

"Yeah, I bet."

_"Look, Kurt told me about the article in—"_

"Bullshit," Santana cut her off with a smirk in her voice, "I haven't told Kurt yet. I know you heard about it from Rachel, and I know she's out in San Antonio with you."

_"I—um,"_ Quinn faltered on the other end of the line.

"What I don't know is," Santana continued, "why you didn't tell me."

It was a little moment before Quinn finally answered with, _"I didn't want you to think I was, I don't know, leaving you to deal with Clockwork yourself while I took some sort of... vacation."_

Santana blinked, actually surprised. "That's ridiculous. I know they pulled you for that conference because you're the shit. Having you lady friend be able to drop everything and leave with you is just a bonus, I would never hold that against you, Q."

_"I didn't know how you'd take it,"_ Quinn admitted quietly. _"We never talk about this kind of thing."_

"That was before," Santana shrugged even though she was alone in her basement, "when you were only dating members of Douchebags Anonymous."

_"Thanks."_

"It's the truth," Santana laughed, "and Rachel is... alright."

_"I guess that's a compliment coming from you,"_ Quinn snorted.

"I don't really know her as much as I'd like to," Santana mumbled awkwardly, "I mean, if you guys are going to... be a thing, or whatever."

Quinn paused and Santana wondered if Rachel was in the room, _"I think there's a good chance of that."_

"Then," Santana's fingers paused on her keyboard, "after this feature business, we should all do something together. You, me, Rachel... and Brittany."

Quinn didn't need any more explanation than that.

_"That would be great,"_ there was a smile in Quinn's voice, and Santana almost blushed._ "Really, that would be perfect, Santana."_

They fell into an easy silence, picturing the future. Before she could get too wrapped up in it, Santana cleared her throat and asked, "So, about the article."

_"Right, of course,"_ Quinn's demeanor changed into a business-like attitude and their heart to heart was put behind them, _"I have someone we can trust tracking it. She's going to update me daily for the next week, but if we haven't heard anything by the end of the day tomorrow, we should be in the clear."_

"Good," Santana was grateful for the reassurance. She knew Quinn had people close to her in the PR department that would keep this from getting to the wrong set of ears.

_"How are you?"_ Quinn's voice softened a little. _"About everything?"_

"I'm fine Q," Santana sighed, "really, I can take care of myself."

_"I know... I just wish I was at that convention."_

Santana raked her teeth over her bottom lip before saying, "Brittany took care of me, Q. It was fine, I'm fine."

She was fine. Even if the drama with Artie was going to keep her from sleeping tonight, even if their feature was still in danger, even if it felt like the small amount of control she had in her life was slipping from her grasp... she was still fine.

Because she had Brittany.

She might even venture to say that she was better then fine.

* * *

><p>"So," Santana glanced at the woman sitting on her desk, "Quinn and Rachel, huh?"<p>

Brittany smiled down at her, "Yeah, I told you they had chemistry."

"You have better gaydar than me," Santana admitted as she continued to type. She didn't know what Brittany was doing on her desk, but she was hardly complaining. It was nice to have her there. Close enough to reach out and touch if she wanted.

Brittany looked up to the ceiling, biting her lip and pondering, "I'm pretty sure I knew you were gay by the end of our first interview."

Santana's fingers stumbled over her keyboard, "Shut up."

The blonde tilted her head back to laugh, the bouncing curls caught Santana's eye.

"No, seriously," Brittany chuckled, "I did. Then I got to your house and felt like an idiot because I hadn't realized that you and Quinn were together."

"We're not—"

Brittany held up a single finger and Santana fell silent.

A sly smile came over Brittany's face and Santana blushed, because yes, that was all Brittany had to do to get her to stop talking.

"I didn't know that at the time," Brittany pointed out, "and you can't tell me it's doesn't look like you are."

"I might be able to see where you would get that idea," Santana said slowly. After a short pause she added, "If you're blind."

Brittany just rolled her eyes and fell into a comfortable silence. She was perfectly content watching the woman work, and ignoring the large amount of work she had to do herself. Her priorities might not have been exactly up to par, but there was always time to appreciate a beautiful woman. Especially when it came to this woman.

She had been thinking about last night's anger laden confession to her ex-boyfriend. It would have been easy to brush it off, as if she had only said it to get the point across to Artie about just how serious she was when she begged him to back off... easy or not, Brittany knew that she couldn't pretend that was the only reason she said it.

The words carried more truth to them than the desperation they were laced with.

She was in love with Santana Lopez.

"_Mr. Hummel and guest at the door."_

Brittany slipped off the desk and took her seat before Santana allowed her assistant entry into the office. He eyed the two women with a curious glance because he wasn't used to waiting for Santana's blessing before he was allowed in. He knew they must have needed a moment to become presentable in some sense. Santana didn't have the sense to be embarrassed about it, she was more interested in the guest.

He ushered a woman forward, "When I was walking through the lobby, I heard her tell the desk that she had something for you."

Brittany glanced at Santana and was curious about the look on her face.

It was a sharply calculating look that a UPS agent wouldn't normally inspire. The woman seemed nervous to approach, and Brittany didn't blame her. The way Santana looked her up and down would have made Brittany jealous if her attitude wasn't so cold. Finally, Santana stood from her desk and walked towards her, a hand outstretched for the package.

Glad for the opportunity to finish her job, the UPS agent handed Santana the object, "Here you go."

It was a thin cardboard envelope. One that was normally used to transport official documents or transcripts. Santana studied it and Brittany watched her eyes narrow. Brittany felt her stomach tense. Something was wrong.

Satisfied that her work was done, the woman turned to Kurt and smiled, "Thank you, for the help."

"You're welcome," he smiled and moved towards the couch as she headed for the door. "Have a good—"

"Computer, code two-one-one."

The UPS woman stepped back as the office door slid shut quickly in front of her, a small red light flashing over the keypad.

"What the hell?" she turned around, looking to Santana, who's command was the reason her escape was blocked. When Santana didn't offer any explanation other than a hard glare, her eyes skated to Kurt and Brittany. For help, maybe?

"Santana?" Kurt asked slowly, unsure of why they were keeping the UPS woman hostage. He didn't even know there was a special code to lock down the office.

Santana didn't answer, her jaw set in an sharp manner, she walked over to the woman. Brittany could see her shoulders tense and the line between her eyebrows darken. She was angry.

"You have two second to tell me who the fuck you are," Santana bit off in a low voice, "and who the hell told you to give this to me."

"How am I supposed to know who sent it?" she asked giving an startled shrug. "My job's just to deliver it."

"First off," Santana held up the package, an envelope that didn't look suspicious at all, "there's no post mark. There's nothing on this fucking thing that would imply that it's been through any sort of postal system."

The woman's eyes shifted around the front of the envelope. It was blank save for the small label on the front.

"Second, it's addressed to _IT Barbie._ Somehow, I don't think you, if you were really a UPS agent, would have known who the fuck that is. Someone told you specifically who to give this to."

"I—"

"Third," Santana waved a sarcastic hand to the woman herself, "UPS doesn't tailor their uniforms to make their employees look like tramps."

Her uniform was rather... skimpy. The shorts were too short to be regulation and the top was made to show off some cleavage. She didn't seem to have an answer for that one and looked at Brittany and Kurt again, pleading silently.

She didn't find friendly expressions on their faces.

"Remember those two seconds?" Santana's harsh voice brought the woman's attention back to her. "You have one left before I call security and tell them I have a fraudulent UPS employee, who can't produce any company ID, delivering suspiciously marked packages to a highly populated building. Do you know what the post Nine-Eleven policy for shit like that is?"

"Fine! Some guy paid me to bring it to you," she huffed, eyes darting around, expecting Brittany and Kurt to jump her too.

"What guy?" Santana wanted to know that more than what was in the package.

"I don't know," she ran a hand through her hair, "I've only met him twice, tall guy, kind of slow. He's a friend of a friend, Frank or something."

"He looks like a Neanderthal?" Santana pressed. "Big white guy, brown hair, stupid look on his face?"

"Yeah," she seemed sure, "that could be him."

"Kurt, Google a picture of Hudson. Finn Hudson," Santana tossed over her shoulder before turning back to the woman. "What else did he say to you?"

"Nothing, just get in the building, give it to someone to give to you, and leave," her voice was muffled as she rubbed her face, obviously regretting ever putting herself in this position, "I didn't expect to run into someone that could bring me right to you. I wasn't even supposed to make it passed the lobby."

"Do you work for Orbit?"

"That's none of your—"

"Don't worry about it," Santana waved her off dryly, "I'll find out when I press formal charges."

The woman paled.

"Unless you want to start cooperating?" Santana crossed her arms over her chest and pegged the woman with a disdainful look.

"Okay, yeah, I work for Orbit," she admitted finally, "They asked me to do it because I wore this outfit to a company Halloween party. They told me it was just a prank. He even paid me fifty bucks."

A prank. Santana's lips thinned dangerously. This was no prank.

"Do you know what's in here?" Santana asked evenly, holding up the envelope again.

She shook her head, "No, I swear."

"Is this the guy?"

They looked at the screen with a picture of Finn Hudson's face, she nodded, "Yeah that's him."

"Who's the other guy?" Santana had to ask. She knew, but she had to hear it for herself.

"I don't know—"

"Think about it," her voice was dark and threatening, "I can still call security on your sorry ass."

"I don't know, some guy in a wheelchair. He works up in the tech department, I've never talked to him in my fucking life. I'm just an accountant."

Santana took in a small breath and dared to glance at Brittany from across the room. The blonde looked just as pale as the fake UPS agent. She decided it was time to stop playing bad cop.

Nodding back at the screen she asked one last time, "You're sure that's the guy?"

"Yeah, positive," the woman replied with such an exhausted honesty that Santana didn't have to question it.

Santana nodded and sighed, "I'll pay you twice what he gave you to make a sworn statement to that effect. No charges, no complaint to Orbit, just give me the statement and I'll let you walk out of here like this never happened."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Um... okay."

"Kurt, call Puck," Santana slipped around her desk and stood behind it. "Computer, codeword_ jailbreak."_

Minutes later Puckerman arrived at the office. He was quick to get the details of Santana's request and escort the woman out to make sure it was taken care of. She gave him a thin smile when he asked if she was alright. When he asked about what to do with the package, she told him not to worry about it. She would take care of it herself. It wasn't until they had left and the door slip closed that she was able to collapse into the chair behind her desk and let out a tired sigh, mentally and emotionally drained.

She rubbed her eyes, "I'm sorry you had to see that, Brittany. It probably wasn't very flattering."

Brittany licked her lips, keeping her eyes resolutely on the pen in her hands.

"Don't worry about it," she said quietly. She had a dreadful hunch that this was all her fault. Whatever was in that package was nothing but hurtful, and it was all her fault. She was barely able to contain anxiety in her voice when she asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm so sick of this," Santana shook her head tiredly.

"Are you going to open it?" Kurt asked cautiously, eying the package with a curiosity that the women lacked.

Santana continued to stare at the package on her desk. Slowly she reached out an picked it up, testing it's weight, pliability, thickness. It felt like a an envelope full of tears and heartache. Brittany watched Santana study it. Her dark eyes weary and guarded. The corners of her lips tucked down as her eyes narrowed. She was disgusted.

"No."

Santana slipped the envelope into her computer bag and begged herself to forget about it.

* * *

><p>The elevator felt smaller for an entirely different reason this time.<p>

Both women had been reserved for the remainder of the workday. Lost in their own worries, regrets, and the words they couldn't quiet vocalize.

Santana guessed that Brittany's silence had been stemmed from her patients. She was waiting until Santana was comfortable enough to bring it up and Santana wasn't sure she was worth that kind of gentle temperament. Brittany was too good to her.

"Brittany," Santana knew she had to say something about it. "I... wish that I had been exaggerating when I told you this would be complicated."

Complicated was more of an understatement.

Santana continued in a small voice, "I'll understand if—"

The way Brittany took her hand was almost desperate, "There's nothing he can do that would make me rethink this."

That was the one thing Brittany knew for sure. She didn't know if this was actually her fault or not, and she didn't know how to make it better, but she knew that she would do whatever it took.

Santana took in a breath that she didn't know she had been holding. Brittany hadn't taken the out. She still wanted this. Santana squeezed her hand. She didn't know how much she needed this hand in her's until it was there, and the world around her seemed vastly more stable.

"This is all my fault," Brittany breathed in harshly. "Santana, this is all my—"

"Brittany, it's not your fault," Santana cut her off in a gently firm tone. "This is between Artie and I, it's always been between us. You're just collateral damage... just like Tina, you're getting the brunt of our shit."

"Please don't be a martyr and break up with me."

Santana's sudden burst of laughter wasn't something she was expecting. Brittany's heart fell for a second, until Santana shook her laughter off and pegged her with a genuine look of adoration.

"I couldn't—" she scuffed her shoe against the cheap tile floor, "Brittany, I... couldn't break up with you if I tried."

She felt the weight of Santana's words. Those chocolate eyes were saying that she was already in too deep to brush this off so easily. She wouldn't let an old grudge come between them if she could help it. This was worth fighting for. Brittany felt her stomach tumble. Did Santana feel the same way? Could she maybe be in love too?

The elevator stopped, the doors opening automatically to the dimmed hallway. Neither woman made the move to exit, they were too lost in their own moment. The large metal door slid closed.

Love aside, she still had other things to confess, "No, really Santana. At the convention, when I was talking to Artie—I told him—he knows that I'm interested in you."

"He knows we're seeing each other?" Santana's shoulders tensed visibly.

"Not exactly," Brittany corrected her in an embarrassed mumble. She explained what had happened, how he assumed they were sleeping together and she had deflected it into just a one-sided crush. She couldn't bring herself to repeat what she had said at Artie's apartment.

Santana's eyes were shifting across the glossy wall, thinking about the pieces and how they fit together.

"He's trying to get between us," she sighed softly. "I—he did it with Tina, and I let him. He must have really liked you, Britt," she joked lightly, "not that I blame him."

"I'm so sorry," Brittany's voice was quiet and dejected.

"This still isn't your fault," Santana said firmly, "you could have told him to roll off a fucking cliff and this still would be about how much he hates me. I pissed him off too by making fun of his office or whatever. So trust me, I don't blame you for a thing."

A small amount of the guilt on her shoulders fell off, and Brittany almost smiled. Santana fingered the straps of her computer bag. She could almost feel the weight of the package.

"Honestly, I'm surprised that it's taken this long to have everything dredged up again."

"Are you..." Brittany needed to know, "going to open it?"

Santana's eyes fell to the floor.

"I don't really need to," Santana mumbled, "it's not going to be anything good. I'm just glad that it's Friday."

Brittany assumed she was glad because if it really was that bad, she would have some time to get over it before she had to come back to work. Santana was planning to take this hard and Brittany wished she could make it better.

"I'll open it tonight," Santana gave a small half shrug. "Go home, have a beer, deal with some demons. No big deal."

"I don't like that idea."

She didn't like that idea at all. Brittany hated the idea of Santana dealing with Artie's torment alone. She felt like she should be there, to help shoulder the burden, to make sure Santana was okay. If she hadn't went to Artie's last night... maybe none of this would have happened. She should have known better than to hope he left them alone.

"I'll be fine, Brittany," Santana's eyes looked up to Brittany's, seeing the concern in her features, then skated to the wall. She couldn't promise she would be fine. "It's probably just a prank, like she said. I'm a grown woman, I can take care of myself."

"Still," Brittany squeezed her hand a little harder, "I'm worried... I don't want you to be by yourself—I could—"

"Remember, when you said that you wouldn't push about this?" Santana asked softly, there was a trace of a pleading quality to her tone.

Brittany's jaw snapped shut, and her expression crestfallen for a moment. She had to admit, "Yes."

"I have to do this by myself," Santana met her eyes, a trace of defiance there. She wanted to keep her secrets. She wanted to keep her dignity.

"There's nothing that could ever make me think less of you," Brittany whispered breathlessly.

Santana's hand stiffened in her own, just for a brief second, "That's... really nice to hear Brittany, but I'm just not... there yet. Please, let me take care of this myself."

Brittany couldn't find it in herself to argue. She didn't want to make anything any worse. If Santana wanted her space, Brittany felt it was the least she could do.

"Will you call me if you need anything?" Brittany asked quietly. Everything instinct she had was telling her this was a bad idea. "With Quinn being out of town and everything."

Santana rolled her eyes, pushing the button that would open the doors of the elevator. That was probably the worst part of the entire thing. She needed Quinn in this moment.

"I'll be fine Brittany, really."

"Santana, please, just promise."

"I promise."

* * *

><p>Brittany called around eight that night.<p>

She knew Santana should have been awake. She could picture the woman sitting in her basement, listening to music, and working at her desk. Or at least that's what she hoped was happening. She hoped that whatever Santana found in that envelope was nothing worth worrying about and they could all get on with their lives.

Santana's phone went straight to voicemail.

She was worried.

She tried again, then about twelve more times—just in case. She got the same response every time. She only left three messages, they all said the same thing.

"_Santana, it's Brittany... look, I'm really worried. So give me a call, okay? Talk to you soon."_

That was an hour ago. The next call went to Quinn.

"_Hello?_"

"Quinn, it's Brittany," she didn't waste any time updating Quinn to the situation, what happened at Clockwork, how Santana was at home alone and not picking up her phone. "I'm not sure if I'm freaking out about nothing, but I'm really worried, Quinn."

_"No,"_ she heard Quinn shuffling around in her hotel room, _"no, I'm worried too. She should have fucking called me. Are they sure it was Artie who sent it?"_

Brittany squeezed her eyes shut, "The woman said it was Artie and his friend."

Why did she have to verbally assault the one man that hated Santana more than anyone in the world? Why did she have to rub salt in his wounds? What had she been thinking? The answer was that she hadn't been thinking. She had been upset, and angry, and made a horrible mistake.

She heard Quinn take in a slow breath, and after a studded silence she said, _"I'm taking the next flight back."_

In the background she heard Rachel ask what was wrong.

"Let me check on her first," Brittany was already slipping into her shoes. "I'll go over to your house and—"

_"Use the garage door,"_ Quinn cut her off,_ "there's a keypad on the right side, I'll text you the code."_

"I'll call you as soon as I find her," Brittany grabbed a jacket hanging across the back of her couch.

_"Brittany..."_ Quinn's voice stilled her, _"you're a sweet girl, and Santana really, really likes you."_

"She means a lot to me too," Brittany breathed, a deep sense of dread twisting around her chest.

_"Please don't—whatever you might find, please, don't hold it against her."_

* * *

><p>Brittany had to try a few times to hit the right buttons because her hands were shaking so badly. Santana hadn't answered the door either. It was freaking her out. She ducked under the garage door as soon as she could fit because it was taking to long to open to her full height. The door into the house was unlocked like Quinn promised, she barely had the frame of mind to close the garage door behind her.<p>

The house was dark. She tried to remember what she knew of the layout to get her to the basement the fastest.

She tired the first option which was to call out, "Santana! Santana it's Brittany, where are you?"

There was no response. Brittany's heart was thudding wildly in her chest. Santana wouldn't have done anything crazy would she? She wouldn't of done something—

"Santana!"

Brittany pushed through a hall and found herself in the living room. Nothing. The kitchen was empty too, but now that she had her bearings she knew how to get to the basement. The door at the top of the staircase was ajar, the area beyond it dark.

That didn't stop her from tearing down the steps. Her flats hit the floor and she looked around. Dim light was pooling at the floor from the computer screens. The number of beer bottles on the desk weren't a good sign.

"Santana?"

The name came out a bare whisper. Somewhere between the top of the stairs and the bottom, she had lost her voice, and her nerve. Brittany was now entirely too scared of what she might find. She looked around to the back of the basement. Quinn had told her that Santana's second bedroom was past the large shelving unit that divided if from the lab area. She crossed past the desks and moved around the shelving unit.

"Santana?"

She peered around the cozy little nook Santana created; one wall covered in thick computer textbooks, the other in shelves of tools and spare parts. Tucked into a corner was another desk. This one looked like it was much more personable that the workstation in the front. It was cluttered and there were photos tacked onto the wall behind the laptop, a small reading lamp offered a warm glow over the area.

The last thing of significance was the small bed tucked into the corner.

"San..." Brittany moved across the room, her eyes finding a familiar shade of dark hair falling over the pillow at the head of the bed. She approached cautiously, lowering herself to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled the comforter down a little further so she could she the woman a better.

Santana was laying on her side, facing away from her, but she could see rhythmic rise and fall of her ribcage. Brittany's heart beat started to level out, Santana was fine. Seemingly passed out after a large amount of alcohol, but fine enough.

She moved gently, reaching out to push some of Santana's hair out of her face. What she found made her heart ache. Even in sleep Santana's face donned a frown, eyebrows knitted restlessly. Her eyes were red and puffy from obvious tear shed. Even her posture was a dejected version of the fetal position, curled into herself and buried under the covers.

Wishing she could just disappear.

Brittany pulled out her phone and called Quinn, quietly updating her to Santana's condition. She could tell that Quinn was still worried, and she tried to be as reassuring as possible. Only after Brittany promised to stay the night, and have Santana call in the morning, did Quinn decide to not fly back that night.

"I'll take care of her Quinn," Brittany said honestly. It was the least she could do.

_"I know,"_ Quinn sighed, _"call me if anything else comes up."_

"I will."

Brittany sighed after she disconnected the call. She looked down to Santana again and watched her sleep for a moment. She stood and slipped out of her shoes, glad that she had ran out of her apartment in her sweats. Brittany eyed the liquor bottle that was balancing on the headboard, she took it from its perch and moved to the desk next to the head of the bed. She wanted to set it down on the desk, but there wasn't a spot for it. The entire desktop was covered in pictures.

Large and glossy eight by elevens, of Santana Lopez.

Brittany nearly dropped the bottle. Her eyes shot to the floor, her face flushed and breath hitched. She glanced back to the photos, then to the woman in the bed; the small, fragile, broken woman in the bed. Brittany took a hit from the bottle in her hand. Then slowly lowered herself into the chair at the desk, keeping her bottle handy. She looked again and her stomach turned. They were all very explicit, very graphic, very nude. These were dirty pictures of Santana...

She was able to keep her eyes on one of them long enough to realize that it was a fake. Santana's breasts were not that large, not by a long shot. She started focusing on the necks in each picture, looking for the subtle change in skin tone, or irregularity to shape. Someone had taken different head shots of Santana and photoshopped them, quite convincingly, on the bodies of women from pornographic magazines.

Possibly Maxim.

Even if she knew they were fakes, Brittany still felt wrong about looking at them in any manner. She started flipping them over so they were facing down. She couldn't imagine Santana down here by herself, opening the envelope to find this. She felt violated and she wasn't even the one in the photos. She felt despicable because she was probably the reason Artie had lashed out.

She flipped another over and paused, there was some writing on the back of this one.

"_This is all the proof I need."_

Brittany hesitantly flipped the photo back over. It was different from the rest of them. It wasn't a posed figure with Santana's face. This was the only image where the woman had on any clothes. Clad in a bra and jeans, she was kneeling on the floor, still between the legs of a man. Brittany didn't have to guess to know why she had that grimace on her face, or what was making her chin shine in the harsh light.

A bitter wave of bile rose up in her throat and Brittany was just barely able to keep it down. She washed it down with another swig from the bottle.

She glanced back down, in a last ditch effort to see if this was a hoax, but there it was... a small splotch of ink on the woman's ribcage, Santana's ribcage. Brittany set the photo down with the rest of them. She thought about calling Quinn back. She wasn't sure if she could deal with this.

Somehow, Artie had come to possess a picture of Santana giving some guy head.

Her blood ran cold at the thought. She grabbed the picture frantically, this time focusing entirely on the second person featured there. Most of his face was cut off, but the slope of his jaw. The frame of his body was slim, he was sitting on a bed, his legs hanging off the edge at an awkward angle—

"God—" Brittany threw the photo back onto the desk cursing between her teeth, "Fuck!"

Her gut was telling her that man was Artie. Her gut was also threatening to heave again. She gripped the edge of the desk to steady herself and took another drink.

Artie and Santana.

Santana and Artie.

Her mind was reeling. She didn't understand. How was this possible? How could they keep this from her? She ran her hand over her face and tried to think it through. There was no way it was that simple. There had to be more to it. Santana and Artie? There was no way. She would have to find out the truth from one of them. Was this what Jesse St. James held over her head? Who else knew about this photo? What was it's context?

Had they been dating?

Was it some sort of drunken fling?

Or worse?

She took in a deep breath. No matter what happened in their past, Santana was the one hurting right now. She was the one that had drank herself into a alcohol induced coma. Brittany set the bottle down, no longer caring if it was sitting on the pictures. She stood from the desk and moved to the bed, determined to do whatever it took to pick up the pieces and make this right.


	22. Chapter 22

It took her a moment to settle down. Brittany sat on the edge of the bed, watching Santana sleep, and readjusting to this new image of Santana's... past life. For the first time, Brittany asked herself if she wished the dots weren't connected. If maybe, she would have preferred ignorance?

No.

A better part of her knew that it was never a good thing to take the easy way out. She had said so many things to Santana about how she wouldn't think less of her, how nothing could change what they had together, and she had meant them.

She had meant them.

Brittany placed her hand on Santana's shoulder, rubbing small circles into the warm fabric. Santana was on fire, her whole body was warm to the touch. Brittany noticed a mist of perspiration on her brow. It made a little sense, the room was a comfortable temperature, and wearing a thermal under the comforter, Santana was probably overheating.

She didn't blame her at all. If she had just been exposed like that, Brittany would want to wrap herself in as many layers possible. She couldn't even imagine what she would do in Santana's situation. How she would feel. She couldn't even imagine what would posses Artie to be so hurtful.

Brittany gently pulled the comforter a little further down Santana's side, letting it bunch at her waist. Her breath caught in her throat when Santana stirred, rolling onto her back and bumping into Brittany's thigh.

Santana's eyes opened, startled, and Brittany caught a flash of fear in them. She flinched away from the strange presence in her bed and Brittany tied to calm her down, "Santana, it's just me, it's Brittany."

"Wha—" Santana's breath was heavy from the fright. Her shoulder's fell back to the bed heavily, eyes blinking to clear the sleep and booze from her mind, "What are you doing here? How did you find my space?"

She was referring to her sanctuary, and Brittany would have thought her drunken rambling might have been cute on any other night. She was still a little out of it and it made this that much harder, because Brittany wasn't sure how to react to her like this. She didn't want to take advantage of her loose tongue and vulnerable state.

"You—you weren't answering your phone," Brittany's voice hitched, betraying how worried she had been. She wrung her hands together, her eyes glanced over to the desk with the photos. "Quinn told me how to get into the house. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Santana's mind reeled, she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, suddenly the light was too bright, Brittany's voice too loud. The sudden shuffle had made her head spin.

"I'm fine," she repeated from memory. The words she had been telling herself all night. "I'm fine."

"Santana..."

She felt Brittany's weight shift on the bed. There was something in her voice, something she had never heard on Brittany's tongue before. She looked up, squinting against the throb of an oncoming headache. Her body felt heavy and she was vaguely aware that she had drank too much. She looked at Brittany and frowned at the tears forming in the woman's eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, uncertainly.

Had she done something wrong? There was something itching in the back of her mind, a feeling of dread. Like she was forgetting something important. She couldn't quite string all the pieces together? Why was she so drunk? Why was Brittany about to cry?

"Are you okay?"

Brittany squeezed her eyes closed and the tears spilled over, it damn near broke Santana's heart. She wanted to reach out and hug the blonde, curl her up in her arms and tell her everything was going to be alright... but that same dreadful feeling made her stay where she was. It told her not to touch Brittany.

She didn't deserve to touch her.

"What did I..." her heart fell at the idea, "did I do something wrong?"

Brittany took in a shaky breath, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Looking down at Santana, the woman looked so conflicted, so lost. And Brittany felt so very sorry. She shook her head, trying to tell Santana that she didn't do anything wrong, that it wasn't her fault.

"Brittany," Santana scrambled for anything. She pulled herself into a sitting position against the wall. "I can't... I don't know what I—"

She tried to remember what she might have done wrong, the ill stirring in her gut told her she had done something awful. She couldn't remember the day at all... she looked around the room, hoping for a clue. When her eyes fell on the desk her stomach twisted painfully.

The package.

She could see them there, all the photos on the desk, politely turned upside-down and not at all where she had left them. Brittany had seen the photos. Most importantly, _the photo_. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry, her pulse ringing deftly in her ears. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them, as if they would protect her from the dejection she was about to endure.

"I—" she couldn't even finish. She didn't even know what to say.

There was no simple explanation for what was laying on the desk. There was no apology that seemed sincere enough. There was nothing she could do to take it back. There was nothing she could say to make it right.

The tears were pouring from her eyes before she realized they had started. Her chest shook with a choked breath and she buried her face in her knees; ashamed, and degraded, and not worthy to even look Brittany in the eye anymore.

"San," she scooted a little closer but Santana just curled into herself deeper, shoulders still shaking from her muffled sobs. The need to comfort the woman overcame any other concern about tonight's revelations.

Brittany moved until she was completely on the bed and against the wall next to her. Santana felt her move closer, still unsure as to what she was doing, why she hadn't left yet. When Brittany gently laid an arm over the Latina's shoulders, Santana flinched and her eyes swelled with tears again. She didn't deserve Brittany. She was nothing but a dirty tramp.

"Santana," she gripped the material of her sleeve and rubbed Santana's shin with the other hand, hoping the contact would speak for her and let Santana know she was here to stay. "Shh, honey, it's okay."

"I didn't—" Santana couldn't even put it into words, she collapsed into Brittany's side and let the blonde pull her closer. "Please, don't hate me."

"I don't hate you," Brittany whispered softly into Santana's hair. "I could never hate you."

They sat together until Santana's breathing had evened and her tears finally stopped. Brittany rubbed small, comforting circles in her back and neck. The contact was more than Santana could have ever hoped for. Brittany wasn't repulsed by her, she wasn't running away. She was still here, it might have been out of pity, or sense of obligation, Santana wasn't sure, but she knew she could work with it.

Lifting her head from her knees, she wiped her face on her sleeves before glancing at Brittany. She couldn't keep her eyes and looked away, settling on a place on her shoulder, "I should have told you."

"San," Brittany tried to keep her voice level, reassuring, "I get it, okay? I get it. We'll figure it out."

The simple acceptance was more than Santana could take. She just shook her head in her hands, "I'm so sorry."

"We'll figure it out," Brittany kissed her shoulder.

Wiping away the small traces of tears left on her face, "Let me explain."

"San," Brittany took her face in her hands, waiting until Santana finally looked at her, showing wounded and scared eyes, before she continued, "I would rather you be sober for this conversation."

Santana ducked her head, a new wave of embarrassment coming over her, "I'm an idiot."

"You're not," Brittany kissed her cheek gently. "I took a few hits off of your bottle after I... found that stuff."

That stuff. That graphic stuff on the desk.

The woman quaked under Brittany's arm, "I am so sorry."

"Shh," Brittany hushed her apologies, honestly, she wasn't sure that Santana needed to make them in the first place. "I know."

"Please, let me—" Santana shook her head to try and clear it.

Brittany shifted a little, "come here, lay with me."

"Wha?"

Brittany answered by gently coaxing Santana down onto the bed next to her, fixing the covers around them. She opened her arms, and Santana hesitated only for a second before she cuddled into the woman, resting her head on Brittany's shoulder, an arm around her waist.

Santana took a deep breath, finally accepting the fact that Brittany was still here. The fingers working softly through her hair, the arm around her shoulder were comforting, and everything that she needed in this moment. Brittany was here and, for whatever reason, she hadn't run away.

"I got it and he didn't."

Brittany stared at the ceiling and listened with a fragile heart. She loved Santana. She fell in love with the woman with the shaded past and the chip on her shoulder. This story was the reason she was the way she was. The explanation to the quirks and curiosities that Brittany had fallen for.

It wasn't a very flattering story, but it was Santana's.

"He didn't talk to me for weeks after that because he was so upset. I didn't understand—I was so sad. Then he called me and he wanted to hang out..." Santana breathed, pressing her forehead into Brittany's shoulder. "I just wanted to make it up to him. I was so stupid... I should have known—Artie never drinks that much, but that's what we did. Just hung out playing games... and getting wasted."

Brittany's stomach turned, she didn't want to know what happened next, she didn't want to hear it, but she knew she had too. Santana needed her to understand.

"I was so trashed..." Santana whispered into her shirt, "I don't know—I can't remember what happened after that... it wasn't till later that the pictures..."

Her shoulders started shaking again, fingers clutched at the material of Brittany's shirt. Brittany wrapped her arms tighter around her small body, hoping that this small gesture of acceptance was enough to put her at some kind of ease.

"It's okay, honey, it's okay."

It wasn't long before Santana slipped back into a fitful sleep. Brittany pulled the blanked around them and settled in for the night, rubbing Santana's back and whispering to her softly when she stirred.

Brittany took a moment to appreciate the smell of the pillow, just like Santana. After watching over the brunette for a few hours, Brittany was able to fall asleep herself.

* * *

><p>Brittany startled awake when a soft voice floated through the room.<p>

"It's worse than I thought," Tina spoke into her phone from the area next to Santana's desk, shoving pictures back into the manila envelope. "He sent her a bunch of photoshopped pictures of her face on naked bodies... I know... yeah, there was one. The same one he's used before. God, he's such a bastard."

Brittany rubbed her eyes, trying to get a hold of her surroundings. She felt Santana's body nearly on top of her, still in a heavy sleep.

"It looks like she drank all the alcohol in your house," Tina frowned, "then she must have gone out and bought some because I'm looking at an empty fifth right now."

"I helped with that one," Brittany admitted with a scratchy voice.

"Oh my—!" Tina flinched, turning sharply to Brittany, nearly dropping her phone. When she regained her composure she whispered, "Brittany, you scared me."

"Sorry," Brittany stifled a yawn behind her hand.

She watched Tina bring her phone back to her ear and say, "What? No, Brittany just woke up... yeah, she spent the night... Alright, I'll have her call you. 'K bye."

"Was that Quinn?" Brittany asked quietly, looking over Santana, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against her side.

"Yeah," Tina moved towards them, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She looked from Santana to Brittany and back. "How is she?"

"Probably incredibly hung over," Brittany guessed. "She was pretty out of it when I got here last night around nine."

"I wish she had called me," Tina sighed. It occurred to Brittany that Tina might have some experience with the woman in this condition.

Brittany frowned at herself, "I do too. I should have thought to call you, my mind just went to Quinn first and I was so," Brittany didn't want to say she had been freaking out, but it was the truth, "out of it, I wasn't thinking."

"I understand," Tina brushed it off, "Quinn had me updated last night to come over this morning."

"I shouldn't have let her go home alone with that thing. Every bone in my body was telling me it was a bad idea."

Tina smiled softly at that, reaching out to rub small circles in Santana's lower back. "I'm sure you did everything you could. I'm not going to pretend like it's easy to get Santana to change her mind, or let people in when she knows she's about to be vulnerable. She knew what was in that envelope was going to mess her up, she was just trying to save you from it."

Brittany knew it shouldn't, but it hurt. She would have loved for Santana to come to her in her time of need. She wanted to be the person Santana shared her burdens with. As if reading her mind, Tina put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and said, "You can't blame her for wanting to keep this from you. It's hard enough to admit that it happened. Your history with Artie makes it a little more difficult."

"It makes it easier, actually."

Tina wasn't sure what Brittany meant, but she was quiet until Brittany continued, "How can I—why would she think I would hold this against her. I've _dated_ Artie. Why would she think I would think less of her for what's in that photo when I've—" Brittany pressed her palms into her eyes, "I can't believe I ever saw anything in him."

Tina gave her a half shrug, "I'm not judging, I knew him when he was a nice guy, I'm sure some of that is left in him somewhere. But trust me, they weren't dating when that photo was taken."

"This is all my fault," Brittany bit her lip. Her guilt was bubbling up again.

"Brittany, this isn't your fault—"

"No, I provoked him," she could feel the tears prickle in her eyes. "That night, when my magazine published his attack on Santana, I ran into my editor. Our boss had fired him, I know he was just taking his anger out on me, but he told me that if the feature get's canceled that it would be my fault—and I... got so scared that it was true. All that turned into anger, and I..."

"You said something to him?" Tina coaxed quietly. "Artie, I mean."

"Yeah," she shook her head, embarrassed, "I went over to his apartment and went off on him."

"I want to say he had coming," Tina joked quietly.

"I told him I was in love with her," Brittany said it because she needed to get it off her chest, and Tina might be the only person that would understand.

The way Tina's eyes widened was almost comical, but Brittany was too busy playing nervously with the hem of Santana's sleeve to notice.

"It was stupid of me," she continued into the silence of the morning, "I know. I was upset, and angry and I hoped, god I hoped, that he would remember what we had together, and what he had with Santana, and put away his jealousy, and just want us to be happy."

Tina took a moment to compose herself, realizing that Brittany needed some reassurance. Tina knew it wasn't the greatest thing Brittany could have ever done, she got that, she could see the regret in her eyes, not for saying it, but for being Artie's catalyst.

"Hey," she caught Brittany's eye gently, "I know Santana can be a little difficult, but please tell me you're not upset because you're in love with her."

Brittany let out a soft puff of laughter, shaking her head, "No, of course not... I'm just so scared that I might have messed this all up."

"You're here," Tina smiled gently, "and it seems like you're willing to understand, so that's not messed up in my book. How much did she tell you about what happened that night?"

Brittany gave Tina a short summery of what Santana had managed to say, "She told me she couldn't remember what happened after that."

"Do you want to know?"

Brittany strained her neck to look at Tina's face. She was watching Santana sleep, a soft regret in her eyes.

"Yes." Brittany closed her eyes, trying to picture all of this happening, because she needed to understand.

Tina's voice was steady and practice, actively keeping herself in control, "She was so messed that she could barely stand on her own. I'll spare you the details, but plain and simple he took advantage of her. He told her things—" Tina released a short breath, "He had this way... of getting past every insecurity she's ever felt. He asked her if she was really in love with me, because he—he had feelings for her too."

"What?" the exclamation escaped from her mouth before she could hold it back. Santana stirred lightly on her chest and the women froze, breathless, until she remained unmoving for a moment.

"I know," she brushed a tear away from her eye, "it's hard to picture now, but they were honestly," Tina paused like she could barely believe she was about to say it, "really great friends."

That was something Brittany still had a hard time picturing. It was going to take her some time to imagine Artie having feelings for the woman. Her woman.

"So, it was easy," Tina's eyes fell to her hands, "for him to warp that into a guilt trip, that she had been leading him on all of this time, and since she had already taken so much from him..."

Brittany could imagine Santana being told all of this by one of her best friends. Listening to an opinion that mattered too much to her. Brittany didn't want to think that she had been with someone that was capable of this.

"She was so out of it that it didn't take very long for her to believe everything he was saying—"

"I get the idea," Brittany pleaded," I don't need to hear any more."

They fell into a thin silence, trying to come back into the present and realize what was important right now.

"Wait," Brittany was confused, "if Santana was so messed up, how do you know what happened?"

Tina let out a breath of dismal laughter, "He sent me the video."

Brittany stared.

"My guess is that he hoped I would think of it as... her cheating on me or something," Tina's voice was strained as she held off her tears, "and he would be there to pick up the pieces and... finally, get the girl."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"You think you feel guilty because you pissed Artie off enough that he wanted to bring all of this out of the crypt?" she asked, keeping her eyes on her hands. "Try being the reason it all happened in the first place."

"Tina—"

"He was in love with her. He told me I wasn't right for her, that he could get her to break up with me," the tears spilled over her cheeks, "I told him to try, and... see what happens."

Brittany wanted to hug her, but Santana kept her firmly in place.

"I'm sure you realize how that turned out for me," Tina's voice wavered slightly. "I'm sorry, it's just that, I've never been able to talk to anyone about it."

"Does Santana know?" Brittany knew the answer, seeing as Santana was under the impression that Artie had liked Tina.

"She knows what happened, because of the pictures obviously. She figured out that he was trying to break us up, though, she's always thought that it was me he was after." Tina shook her head, "How am I supposed to tell her the truth? Tell her that I basically sent Artie after her..."

"I'm so sorry, that you were ever put in that position," Brittany said as she reached out, taking Tina's hand. "I want to hug you."

"You're taking this pretty well," Tina brushed the rest of her tears away, "I think you're supposed to hate me for doing this to your girlfriend."

"You didn't do this," Brittany told her with such a blatant honesty that Tina felt some of the tension in her chest ease, "a stupid, jealous, boy did this to her."

"You... you're a good girl Brittany," Tina squeezed her hand and took a deep breath to keep a fresh batch of tears from spilling over, "I'm going to run upstairs and make you guys some breakfast, I'm sure she's going to be starving when she wakes up."

Brittany could agree to that and watched as Tina slipped off the bed, gathering as many empty bottles that she could carry, and headed around the shelving unit. She listened to her walk up the stairs until her footfalls disappeared.

"So many secrets."

Santana's voice was just a breath, but it was enough to make Brittany nearly jumped out of the bed. "Holy—"

"Shh," Santana pressed her fingers against Brittany's mouth to silence the startled noise and oncoming questions. "Just, shh, for a second."

Brittany nodded timidly. How long had Santana been awake?

"I'm sorry," Santana took back her hand, her eyes barely opened, "but I feel like shit, so please, speak softly."

"How long—"

"The whole thing," Santana sat up on her elbows, running her fingers through her unruly hair. She felt like crap and she was sure she looked it too. Santana groaned, her head was pounding, her stomach was throwing a fit. She was probably still a little drunk.

"How much of the whole thing?" she whispered as Santana sank back to the mattress and covered her eyes with her hands. Even in her compromised mental state, Santana could feel the anxiety rolling off the blonde.

"Enough."

Santana wished she wasn't so hung over. Brittany deserved better than her short mood.

It came back to her again, that Brittany had seen those pictures she knew what had happened between her and Artie. She was surprised Brittany was even still here and willing to talk to her. Brittany had to realize that she wasn't worth all of this, she must have realized that she was dirty, and broken, and pathetic.

"I'm so sorry, Brittany—"

Brittany didn't hesitate to wrap the woman up in her arms again.

"Don't apologize for this," Brittany said strongly, she was sure Santana had nothing to apologize for. "I don't blame you for not telling me. I don't blame you for anything."

Santana took in a deep breath, she never knew how good it would feel to hear something like that.

"If anything," Brittany said helplessly, "I should be apologizing to you."

Santana peeked one eye open and looked up towards the blonde, "What do you mean?"

"This is all my fault."

"What is?"

"Those pictures," Brittany almost feel the manila envelope on the desk.

"That's ridiculous," Santana closed her eyes again, the reminder making her defensive, "you didn't put his dick in my mouth."

Brittany flinched at the harsh vulgarity of Santana's words. She took a small breath and pushed on, "I shouldn't have yelled at him."

"Yeah," Santana's brow furrowed a little, "I... heard you tell Tina about that."

Brittany flushed because Santana still hadn't said anything about what else she had admitted to, "It was stupid of me, I know—"

Santana bristled at the word. She knew Brittany hated that word. She must have felt horrible to describe herself like that. As Santana listened to her voice, she could almost hear the threatening tears come.

Santana opened her eyes, and shifted so their faces were just inches away from each other on the pillow. She hoped Brittany knew she was serious when she said, "He would have done it anyway—"

"I told him that I'm in love with you."

Santana blinked a few times, her mind pounding with a headache and clouded with possibilities.

A part of Santana couldn't believe it, still. Brittany was in love with her. She had heard her say it to Tina. She had referred to her feelings in the present tense. So... still felt that way? Even after finding out about what happened between her and Artie?

"You're in love with me?"

Brittany's hand brushed her cheek lightly, looking her in the eye, "Yes."

"Still?" Santana asked in a mere breath, "All of this... hasn't changed anything?"

"No," Brittany took her hand, holding it between both of hers, "no, nothing has changed. I'm still, very much, in love with you."

Brittany brought their hands to her lips and kiss each one of Santana's knuckles.

"How can—I've kept so much from you," Santana licked her lips, struggling to open herself to the bubble of happiness she could feel stirring in the back of her mind. Brittany was in love with her?

"What did you keep from me?" Brittany shrugged, "I had already told you that I would wait until you were ready. Honestly, I don't blame you for wanting to keep this one to yourself, and if anything... I'm thankful that you had planned on telling me eventually."

"I did," Santana squeezed her eyes shut, "I planned on telling you everything... maybe after we had some time to..."

"It is kinda early in our relationship to be pulling out this kind of crazy drama," Brittany tried to lighten the mood a little. She could see the light coming back into Santana's face, the small quirk of a smile on her lips.

"It is a little crazy," Santana snorted, gripping Brittany's hand a little tighter. "I can't believe he was..."

"Was in love with you?"

"Ugh," Santana groaned shortly. "How does getting me plastered and—what was he thinking?"

Brittany manipulated her hand, kissing her palm lightly. She wouldn't say it out loud, she would never want to come across like she was defending Artie, but she knew that people do desperate things when they're in love. It seemed like he had a lot of stuff fall apart for him at the time. He was desperate, and alone, and made a horrible decision.

She pushed the thought aside, because nothing justified what he had done.

Santana frowned thinly, "I can't believe Tina kept that from me."

"The same reason I didn't tell you that I chewed out Artie the day the article was published," Brittany reasoned quietly, running her hand up Santana's bicep and around her shoulders, "we were scared."

"Hm." Santana peeked open one of her eyes, "You really told Artie off?"

"I did!" Brittany buried her face in Santana's shoulder, "Oh my gosh, it was so bad, I've never been that angry before."

"I wish I could have seen it," Santana chuckled softly.

"Whatever," Brittany picked her head up and kissed Santana softly on the cheek, "it was nothing compared to the way you went after that fake UPS lady, and you said _I_ could be an interrogator?"

Santana blushed, "I was so embarrassed that you had to see me like that."

"In retrospect," Brittany smiled slyly, "it was kind of hot."

Santana laughed, until the sharp pain of her headache cut it short. She rubbed her temples, trying to elevate the pain. "Fuck, my head."

Brittany kissed her forehead lightly, "You shouldn't drink so much. Especially when you're so sad."

Santana knew it was true.

"Tina's making food?"

"That's what she said," Brittany nudged the brunette in the ribs, making her squirm a little bit, "when you were eavesdropping like a little jerk."

"It's not my fault you guys talk so loudly."

Brittany heard a small trace of guilt in her voice, "I think you had a right to know everything we were talking about anyway."

"I have to go find Tina," Santana sat up slowly, "she's probably crying into my cereal right now."

"I've wanted to hug her since she got here," Brittany agreed.

"It's not weird is it?" Santana watched Brittany sit up, raising her eyebrows in question and fixing her hair a little.

"What?"

"Tina, and me," Santana's eyes fell into her lap, "like, we've been through a lot together... and yeah we used to date, but we don't see each other like that anymore."

Brittany smiled at her, "I'm not worried about it."

Santana felt relieved.

"But since you brought it up, I would appreciate it if next time she does your makeup, she would find other seating arrangements."

Santana's blush darken as she mumbled, "Yeah, sure."

"I'm joking Santana," Brittany slipped off the bed with a laugh. She stood, stretching out the morning stiffness. She turned back to the bed where Santana was watching her like she couldn't believe she was there. She held out her hand, "honestly, I'm glad she's here for you."

Santana took Brittany's hand and let herself be pulled from the bed. As soon as her feet were on the floor, Santana wrapped her arms around the blonde. Brittany was a little surprised by the force of the hug, it took her just a moment to return it.

"Yeah, I'm glad she's here," Santana admitted softly, "but I am, so thankful, that you're here too, Brittany."

"I'll be where ever you need me to be."

Santana took a deep breath, keeping from getting too emotional, but she had to say this, "I love you."

Brittany's arms tightened around her.

"I probably should have said it like, twenty minutes ago," Santana rambled, "or even the first time I really felt that way, or hell, after that fucking interview when you saw right through me—" she pulled back, to see Brittany's face, "you see me Brittany and I—I would totally kiss you right now if I didn't have such a horrible case of cottonmou—"

Santana was cut off by Brittany kissing her, it was chaste, and really just a peck, but love was there.

"I love you, Santana," Brittany pressed their foreheads together, "I love you for who you are, and all of your past lives, and I want to get to know each and every one of them because it's only going to make me love you all the more."

Santana laughed a little, "Well, you've already met the worst of them, so it should be uphill from here."

Brittany knew she would embrace every skeleton in Santana's closet.

"Oh, here," Brittany reached down, picking up the pair of Ray-Bans on the nightstand. She opened them and slowly, carefully, placed them on Santana's face.

Santana blinked a few times to get used to the correction of her lenses, "Thanks."

"I love your glasses," Brittany flushed a little as she said it.

"You don't think they make me look like a total nerd?" Santana rolled her eyes.

"Well yeah, that's the best part," Brittany laughed, kissing her cheek and taking her hand. Together they walked towards the kitchen, past the envelope that was only delivered to hurt them, and on with their lives.


	23. Chapter 23

The smell in the kitchen was simply, amazing.

"I'm making—"

"My favorite," Santana sent Tina a subdued smile from the entry way of the kitchen, Brittany in tow behind her. Brittany wasn't sure what she was making, something that involved eggs, diced potatoes, spiced ground beef, and tortillas, but she was suddenly starving.

"If you two hurry and jump in the shower," Tina suggested over her shoulder, "you can be out by the time it's done."

Santana and Brittany shared a shy glance at each other.

"You can use mine," Santana offered, "remember where it is?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded, kissing the corner of her mouth, and slipped back into the hallway.

Santana crossed further into the kitchen, gravitating slowly to the woman at the stove.

"How are you feeling?" Tina asked, manipulating her spatula effortlessly.

"My head is killing me," Santana rubbed her forehead. The sunlight was a little too bright for her comfort. All she wanted to do was crawl back into her basement and sleep, but her stomach was decidedly too hungry for that.

"I pulled out a bottle of Advil," Tina nodded to the table. "There's orange juice in the fridge."

A thought occurred to her and Santana frowned, "Did you buy groceries before you came over?"

"I assumed you wouldn't have any food because Quinn's been gone for the past... four? Five days?" Tina shrugged off the question, "I wasn't wrong."

Santana didn't have the capacity to be embarrassed at the moment, and took the bottle of Advil with a air of defiance. There was a fresh bottle of orange juice in the refrigerator, along with a few other things that Tina knew Santana liked. She grabbed the carton and poured herself a glass.

After taking her medication, Santana meandered back to the stove, leaning against that counter to watch Tina make her favorite kind of breakfast.

"I remember when I taught you how to make that."

Tina smirked at her, "You only taught me so I would make it for you."

"That's a lie," Santana scoffed. Tina sent her a sideways look and Santana had to smile, "Okay, maybe there's some truth to it."

"I'm glad you can admit it," Tina turned back to the stove. "Will you teach Brittany next?"

Santana's smile quirked into a lopsided grin, "You know, I just might."

"You should," Tina caught her eye, "she's a catch. You wouldn't believe what she told me this morning, before you woke up."

Santana ran her hands through her hair, she had every intention of confronting Tina about what she had been keeping from her for so long, but right not, she just wanted to be happy.

"She loves me."

Speaking the words were almost as great as hearing them.

"She told you?" Tina smiled at her, a beaming look in her eyes.

"Yeah," Santana flushed a little. It felt so nice to have someone be happy for her. For them. "She did, even after... all of this."

"Santana, you have to know that no one would ever hold that against you."

"That's what people tell me," Santana mumbled softly. She glanced at her feet before pushed off the counter, "Hey, um..."

Tina quirked her eyebrows in prompt. She wanted to smile at the way Santana was hesitating, shuffling her feet against the hardwood floor. Finally, the Latina looked up, "Thanks, for coming out here. I know it's out of your way, and I didn't mean to make you worry."

"Trust me," Tina bit her lip, it was good to hear, but she knew Santana needed a break from anything too emotional, "I'm doing you a huge favor, Quinn was already on her computer booking a flight back when she called me. Between Brittany and I, we were able to talk her down."

Santana flushed, "She worries too much."

"You need to call her."

"I know," Santana rubbed her eyes, she wasn't even sure where her phone was.

Tina just smiled, "Go jump in the shower, you smell like a brewery. I don't know how Brittany dealt with it all night."

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes and wandered out of the kitchen, she really did need to shower.

* * *

><p>Tina's breakfast was as good as it smelled, and Brittany was so grateful. Sitting at the kitchen table, across from Tina and next to Santana, she finished her meal and sat back to listen to the women talk about work. It's not that she didn't have anything to contribute, it's just that she was more concerned with enjoying the company.<p>

Brittany's hands worked in tandem, one moving towards her glass of orange juice while the other slipped under the table and onto Santana's thigh. It was a bold move. They hadn't ever talked about boundaries, and Brittany wasn't sure what Santana was comfortable with in front of other people. She thought she might as well try in front of someone Santana was comfortable with.

The minor pause in conversation was the only reaction that indicated Santana had even noticed her hand. When Tina stood to pour herself another cup of coffee, Santana sent Brittany a warm, but bashful, smile.

"You need to take some time off."

The way Tina said it didn't sound like a suggestion at all.

"I can't," Santana rebuffed looking at the woman as she came back to the table, "the exposition is coming up. I have too much to do before then."

"Are you showing your super secret project then?" Brittany asked curiously.

"Yeah, it's a pretty big deal for me," Santana nodded, "It has to be on point."

"You're going to burn yourself out," Tina slipped back into her seat and caught Brittany's eye, hoping she would back her up on this. "I'm not saying you don't have to keep up with your work, because I know that's impossible for you. I'd just like to see you get away, from Clockwork at least."

"Why don't you work from home for a few days?" Brittany suggested because it wasn't too unreasonable.

"Because I have to be there for the meetings and crap," Santana rolled her eyes. "Brittany, you know how many emails I deal with on an hourly basis."

"Have them forwarded to Kurt," Tina was insistent, "he's screened them for you before, like last fall, when you were in the hospital."

She didn't ask, it would have been rude, but Brittany's concerned eyes were enough of a question for Santana to say, "Some bitch tried to kill me at a company retirement party."

Brittany's face became even more confused and Tina laughed, "What she means is, she ate something with peanuts and was hospitalized for a few days."

"Is your allergy that bad?"

Santana glanced into her coffee, muttering, "Not exactly."

"She went to the hospital for the allergic reaction, but they wouldn't release her because she was dangerously dehydrated and on the verge of clinical exhaustion," Tina explained with a small frown. "It was the only thing that made us realize that she was literally working herself to death."

"There's nothing wrong with working hard," Santana scoffed defensively. "You have to admit I've gotten a lot better."

Brittany wasn't so sure, "What about that time we skipped work because you had stayed up until five in the morning and Quinn had to keep you from going to work?"

Santana pursed her lips, an embarrassed flush coming to her face, "That was one time."

"This month," Tina finished with a laugh.

Santana rolled her eyes and Tina just laughed harder.

"She has got a lot better about it," Tina smiled reassuringly at Brittany.

Santana still wasn't sold on the idea, she had a lot of work to do. She tried to tally the amount of hours she could lose working from home. She glanced at the clock, she was already behind her usual weekend schedule and she needed this project to go off without a hitch. Besides the feature, this was probably the most important project she had going for her.

"Come on, Santana," Tina pressed on, "Kurt will keep you updated when it's important."

"Plus," Brittany added, "you did say that you wanted Mike taking on more responsibilities when it comes to the day to day stuff."

"Maybe…" Santana took a sip of her coffee. Tina and Brittany shared a small smile, because at least she was thinking about it.

"Or…" Tina gave her a teasing smile, "you could fly out to Ohio, and meet your stepsister's fiance."

"Ugh," Santana pulled a face, "that is coming up isn't it?"

"That sounds nice and relaxing," Tina suggested sarcastically, "doesn't it?"

"About as relaxing as stick in the eye," Santana grumbled.

"So, you'll take a few days off?" Brittany wanted to be sure that Santana did this, she really needed it.

Santana shrugged, "I might put some nights in at the lab, but I could work from home for a little bit. At least until Quinn get's back."

Brittany was glad, Santana really needed to relax for the next few days. Not to mention that she really had a lot to write before Rachel got back into town. The editing was… getting tricky. There was a delicate balance between condemning Clockwork and condoning it. Rachel would help make sure she was walking that thin line to the bet to their abilities.

They only had one shot at this.

* * *

><p>Satisfied that her friend was in good hands, Tina had left shortly after breakfast. Brittany swiveled in her favorite stool of Santana's work lab, listening to Santana returned to the basement.<p>

"I jacked this from Quinn's study," Santana flipped through the pages of a spiral notebook as she walked down the stairs, "It's nothing fancy, but It's better than mine. I only use graphing paper."

"Anything is fine, Santana," Brittany wanted to laugh. "Really, I could have just used some paper from your printer."

"Why would I let you do that, when I have a perfectly good notebook right here," she quirked an eyebrow, setting the book on the desk in front of the blonde. Her other hand dropped a few items on top of that, "And pens."

Brittany bit her lip to stifle a grin, because while she only needed one, Santana had given her three. Black, blue, and red. "Thank you, Santana."

"Are you sure you don't want to use a computer?" Santana sank into her usual chair and wiggled her mouse to bring her desktop out of sleep mode.

Brittany chuckled and took up her materials, "Yes."

"I don't really get that," Santana mused, "I mean, if you're going to have to type it all up anyway, why not just cut out the middle man and do everything on the computer?"

"I like writing things out by hand when I can," Brittany opened the notebook to a blank page.

"If I had to write out everything that I typed," Santana found the idea amusing, "I would honestly never get any work done. It takes to long."

"A teacher told me that if everyone had to write out what they wanted to say, the world would be a better place," Brittany jotted down a header blurb with the date next to it.

"Why's that?"

Brittany felt Santana's eyes on her as she switched pens, "Have you ever said something with out thinking, and like, it wasn't till later that you realized you didn't mean it?"

Santana had to admit that she had.

Interpreting her silence for assent, Brittany continued, "Me too. Now, would you have said that if you had to write it down on a piece of paper first?"

Santana wasn't so sure.

"I think it would give people enough time to think about what they really want to say," Brittany took up another pen. "That's why I use longhand so much, so I know I'm writing exactly what I want to say. Sometimes it's better to take things slow."

It seemed like she wasn't the only thing Brittany had an endless amount of patients for.

Brittany didn't know if Santana ever saw her point, but the woman didn't make any further argument, and eventually the steady clicking of a keyboard continued.

They worked in tandem for the next couple of hours. Brittany wasn't sure if Santana was really worried about her deadline, or if throwing herself into her work was just another coping mechanism to shield herself from the Artie drama. She kept a good eye on the clock, resolute in her decision to get Santana out of the basement within the hour. Time passed, and in five minutes she would suggest getting lunch. Brittany watched the small numbers in the corner of the monitor in front of her change slowly.

Five minutes.

"Let's go do something."

Brittany looked over in time to see Santana stand from her computer desk and stretch, arms thrown brazenly over her head and back arched. The soft cotton material of her tee shirt riding up teasingly. Did she say something?

"What?" Brittany blinked away from Santana's midriff and tried to focused on her words.

"Oh, I don't know," Santana lowered her arms to shrug, "anything, food maybe. This isn't getting anywhere and I feel like my eyes are going to melt in their sockets."

"That's probably why you need glasses," Brittany laughed, "you spend too much time staring at a computer screen."

"You're probably right," Santana agreed reluctantly. "So, you up for getting out of here?"

"Sure," Brittany stood and crossed the few feet to the girl, wrapping her arms around her, just because she could, "but I'll have to stop by my apartment before we go anywhere."

Santana was happy to return the contact, a smiled tugging at her lips, "Of course."

* * *

><p>As the door closed behind them, Santana knew it was silly, but she was nervous. For some reason, going to Brittany's apartment seemed like the final step in entering the woman's life. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was actually, a really big deal. Brittany on the other hand, seemed almost excited.<p>

"Don't be shy," Brittany smirked, grabbing Santana's hand and pulling out of the doorway. "Oh wait, are you allergic to cats?"

"No, why?" Santana blushed as soon as she said it, Brittany wouldn't have asked if she didn't have a cat.

"Because, when I said I lived alone," Brittany chuckled, flipping through the stack of mail she had picked up from her box on the first floor, "I was only talking about people."

The loft was fitting. Aloof and inviting, it was filled with colors that were primarily light blues and soft yellows. Odds and ends were scattered about that clashed perfectly with the decor; the burnt orange armchair, the forest green bookshelves, a lamp with six different bulbs, each with a different colored shade.

Brittany walked further into her apartment, past the living room area and into the kitchen, setting her mail down on island. Santana found herself following Brittany, unsure of a new environment and where the boundaries were. She kept one eye out for the mentioned cat.

"This place is so... open," Santana looked around, there were no visible rooms besides a door under the stairs. She assumed that the upstairs nook was Brittany's bedroom, all other areas were separated by the understanding of implied space. There was one area that Santana was more curious about than the others.

"There's not much privacy here," Brittany laughed from the kitchen where she was fixing a bowl of something. "No basement to hide out in."

"Yeah, I guess not," Santana flushed, she would never be able to live with Quinn in a house like this. One of the only reasons they worked so well together was because they had a very good understanding of boundaries. Brittany on the other hand, was very good at getting past all of hers.

"There we go," Brittany set the bowl on the ground near the island and walked over to Santana. She tugged lightly on the lapel of her jacket, pleased with the smile it brought out on Santana's face, "I'm gonna run upstairs and change, be right back."

"Take your time."

"And you," Brittany kissed her cheek as she passed, "make yourself at home."

"Can I, um," Santana asked quietly, making Brittany pause at her side, "scope out your study area thing?"

"Yes," Brittany smiled, slipping away from the woman and heading towards the stairs. "Just don't judge my book collection."

Santana watched her climb the stairs, disappearing behind the decorative privacy curtains. With permission granted, she walked up the two steps and onto the platform that created the implied room that she felt was most interesting, Brittany's work space.

Centered under the largest window in the apartment, Brittany's desk was a viable mess. Her notebook was laying open next to a laptop, a handful of pens scattered around the surface. She glanced over the open pages, folders, and scribbles. She could feel Brittany's mind floating around the pages, in the brightly colored sticky notes and doodles in the margins of documents.

Two particularly familiar words caught her eye, written neatly on one of the blue folders.

_Santana Lopez_.

After a quick glance towards the upstairs, she reached out and picked it up. She had no intention of opening it, that would have been a small invasion of Brittany's privacy. She felt its thickness between her fingers, the weight of Brittany's research. Underneath she found a matching folder labeled _Clockwork_. That folder was much thicker.

Santana placed the folder back on the the desk, making sure to place it just as she found it. In her haste, she bumped the chair with her hip, and nearly jumped out of her skin when it made a strangled noise. In the seat of Brittany's chair was the largest, fattest, cat Santana had ever seen. Staring at her with narrow eyes, it might have just been annoyed that she had woken it up, but Santana felt like it was sizing her up.

"Hm," Santana made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, taking a few steps backwards, and towards one of Brittany's bookcases.

She glanced over the covers, amused by the mixture of classic literature and modern fiction, the few text books, and a section devoted to horoscopes and meditation. Santana pulled a few books off the shelves to read the back cover. Even when she turned her attention towards the shelves, Santana could feel the cat's eyes on her. Honestly, it was creeping her out. She shook off the feeling, she was acting crazy, cats don't judge people.

As she set a book back on the shelf, her eyes slid over to the cat in the chair. It was still watching her.

Santana was saved by Brittany trotting down the stairs, "Did you find my stash of cheesy romance novels? I think I have everything Nicholas Sparks has ever written."

"I didn't notice," Santana answered honestly, "but I did find your cat."

"Tubbs!" Brittany hopped onto the platform and scooped her cat into her arms. The beast looked even larger against her slender frame, Santana guessed that it had to weigh at least thirty pounds.

"I've missed you so much," Brittany shifted the cat until she was holding it as a mother would hold a baby, "have you missed me too?"

Feeling a little more confident now that Brittany was here, and it wasn't staring at her, Santana had to say, "That cat is huge."

"He's big-boned," Brittany cooed, keeping her eyes on the cat and smiling, "aren't you, Tubbington? Come on, I've put out some Fancy Feast for you."

Brittany took the cat to the bowl she had fixed and set him in front of it. Santana was barely able to keep from laughing, "His name is Tubbington?"

"Lord Tubbington, to be exact," Brittany corrected with a grin, "and not because he's a little on the heavier side. The truth is, he likes sleeping in the bathtub."

"Makes sense," Santana smiled, taking an appreciative glance at Brittany's outfit. "You look nice."

"Much better than sweats," Brittany flushed, stepping back onto the platform and thanking Santana with a kiss. She liked this feeling, kissing Santana in her home. "Have you been looking through my notes?"

"Well," Santana shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, "I did find a folder with my name on it, but I didn't open it or anything."

Brittany moved to the desk, picking up the folder and pretending to study the cover playfully. She smirked, and quirked an eyebrow, "Curious?"

"Yes."

Santana wasn't even ashamed, anyone that found a thick folder with their name on it would have been, and given their situation the feeling was multiplied tenfold.

"You can go through it, if you want," Brittany held it out to her with a reassuring smile, she had no secrets.

Santana took the folder and was tempted, honestly tempted, but she shook her head, setting it back on the desk, "Not now, I don't want to make today about work."

"What's it about then?" Brittany asked quietly.

She knew she was fishing, but it was worth it to hear Santana say, "Us."

Brittany stepped a little closer, her heart warming as Santana struggled with her words in the cute way she did, "After all that bullshit, I just want to be with you. You know, like, without Clockwork, or anything... complicated."

She smiled softly, taking Santana's face in her hands and kissing her fully. Santana was quick to return it. They needed this reconnection. They needed to reestablish that nothing had changed between them. She stepped closer, taking Brittany's hips in her hands and pressing their bodies flush. Close and warm. Brittany's fingers lost themselves in soft dark hair as Santana's crawled up her sides. The blonde made a small noise of longing as she pulled away.

They lingered close, breathing the same air against each others lips.

"Uncomplicated," Brittany mused, "and just the two of us."

Santana watched her lips pull into a grin.

"I think I can do that."

* * *

><p>"You call this uncomplicated?" Santana almost laughed, glancing around the back of the ceramics store she had been brought to once before.<p>

Brittany pulled her smock over her head, and pegged Santana with an amused glance, "It's painting, Santana. Even toddlers know how to paint."

"And they're _so_ good at it too."

"Probably better than you."

"We'll see," Santana rolled her eyes but couldn't keep herself from smiling at the subtle challenge in Brittany's voice. "Where are those pots we made anyway?"

"I'm about to grab them," Brittany passed Santana a smock top and disappeared into door across the hall, "be right back."

She slipped into the top and waited for Brittany to return, playing around with the brushes that she had set out for them. She sighed because, even across town, she could feel the nagging memory in the back of her head of what she left in her basement, it that manila envelope. She was glad that Brittany had brought her here. There was a a subtle excitement to being here again, in the place where they first kissed. That night had been perfect. She could still feel that energy around the room. It was enough to help her push all of that away and focus on what really mattered.

"You must be Santana."

Santana turned in her stool, facing the sound of the voice.

He was a happy looking man, striding across the room as he wiped his hands on a clay covered apron. Deeming them clean enough, he held one out to Santana.

"I am," Santana shook his firmly, as she did when she was meeting business executives or new employees, "are you the owner? I'm sorry, Brittany's told me your name but I've forgotten it."

"Trent," he supplied easy, not taking any offense, "and yes, I'm the owner."

"I really like your work," Santana said honestly, gesturing in the direction of the main floor, "it's beautiful."

"Oh shush," he waved her off, "you'll make me blush. I just wanted to pop in and meet you, Brittany is such a friend to Jeff and I, it wouldn't do her justice to not be a good host."

"She's a great girl," Santana agreed, hoping Brittany would return soon, "and I appreciate you letting us use your shop."

"Please," his voice dropped to a stage whisper, "you're actually helping _me_ out. See, I've been trying to get Brittany back in here, to dabble in her creative entities, you know, get a feel of what she's really capable of. She has a vision, that girl does. If I had just a little more time with her—"

"There was no way I was going to give up on being a writer, Trent," Brittany eyed him with a good-humored glare, "we've talked about this."

Trent crossed his arms over his chest, "A guy can dream can't he?"

"Of course you can," Brittany laughed, setting down the ceramics and turning to him, waving towards the door, "somewhere else."

He put a hand over his heart, mortally wounded. When Brittany didn't look a bit remorseful he smiled, "Fine, fine. I can take a hint. It was nice to meet you, Santana."

"You too," Santana watched him walk out and shut the door behind him. "He seems nice."

"He is," Brittany agreed without hesitation. "He has such a big heart, and his boyfriend is just as nice, even if he is a little on the quiet side."

"So... you're a lot better at this ceramics thing then you let on," Santana smiled as a little color came to the blonde's cheeks.

"Well, it's easy to be good at something when you have a good teacher," she brushed it off, "and Trent and Jeff were awesome."

"Hm," Santana spun a paintbrush between her fingers, studying the pot that she had made a few weeks ago. It hadn't turned out too bad, possibly a little lopsided... if you squinted. "So, are you going to teach me how to paint? Because, you know, I want to be really good at it."

Brittany flushed deeper, "You're making fun of me."

Santana turned herself towards the blonde, taking her hand, and pulling her closer. Brittany nearly stumbled between Santana's knees, catching herself on the brunette's shoulders. It looked like Santana didn't mind at all, with one hand still on Brittany's, the other snaked around her waist to hold her steady.

"Hey, you know I would never make fun of you," Santana said in a quiet, but very sincere voice, "tease maybe, but I would never be hurtful on purpose."

Brittany was lost for a moment, in the seriousness of her tone and the sympathy in her eyes. She ran her hand up Santana's neck, until her fingers could play in her hairline, and the Latina leaned into her touch.

"I know," Brittany leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on her lips.

Santana blinked up at her when they parted, "Will you teach me how to paint?"

Brittany grinned, "I would love to."

* * *

><p>Santana used the paintbrush to adjust her glasses, she was almost finished with her design. She had used a light green for the base coat, and was now webbing a circuit-like pattern around the pot. Even from her memory, she was willing to bet that it was almost entirely accurate. Brittany on the other hand, was finishing up a more intricate pattern of shades and colors. The details made it seem like the pot wasn't as smooth as it really was. Santana guessed that was the effect she was going for.<p>

"Did Trent really teach you everything," Santana wondered out loud, "or is your level of creativity some god given talent?"

"Actually, my mom went to art school," Brittany smiled at the memory, "and she always let me tag along with her crafts."

"That must have been," Santana's hands paused for the barest of moments, "really cool."

"It was," Brittany agreed, "and probably the only thing that kept me from getting too down on myself in high school," she laughed a little, "you don't need to be able to read to paint a picture. It was awesome to be able to be good at something, even if I was failing English."

"So…" Santana was confused, "why did you chose writing instead of working here?"

"Why did you choose to go into technology?" Brittany shrugged, looking over her creation, "sometimes people see the easy road and just… want something else."

Santana wasn't sure her story was really that comparable to Brittany's. She had gone into technology on a whim, unexpectedly falling in love with it and letting it taking over her life. Somewhere along the line, that feeling had been altered by the negativity of her peers and how hard she had to work to prove herself. Santana felt that Brittany's decision to conquer something she had struggled with was much more pure.

"Well," Santana smiled a little, "color me impressed."

Brittany smirked, "Okay."

She reached over quickly and swiped her brush down Santana's arm, leaving a long streak of dark blue paint on her skin. Santana stared at her, caught between surprise and the need to retaliate.

"Isn't blue the color of…" Brittany trailed off under the weight of Santana's dark eyes, "no?"

"No," Santana shook her head slowly and dipped her brush into the silver she had been using, "I don't think so."

Brittany bit her lip, watching as Santana deliberately moved her brush towards her, hovering over her forearm just long enough to give the blonde a lopsided grin. At a mocking pace, Santana made a long stroke. The trail of silver gleamed in the light, a bold accent against Brittany's skin.

"There, now we match," Santana started to pull away, satisfied with her revenge, but Brittany's hand closing around her wrist stopped her. She glanced from their hands, to Brittany's eyes, bright with something that made Santana's stomach flip.

A moment passed where all they did was watch each other breathe. Brittany slowly rose from her stool, carefully taking the brush from Santana, and setting it carefully on the counter. A bold hand fell to Santana's knee, spinning the stool until they were facing each other.

"I think," Brittany licked her lips, eyes shifting between Santana's, "you got the hang of painting."

Santana's heart pounded in her ears as Brittany slipped closer, hips brushing the insides of her thighs. She felt Brittany's hand fall on her shoulder, a thumb running along the hem of her collar, tickling the skin there and making her shudder. Slowly it inched its way up her neck, and with a gentle curling of fingers, Brittany was able to coax Santana to lean forward.

When they finally kissed Santana's eyes fluttered closed and the heat that spread over her body had nothing to do with the kiln in the next room. Brittany's tongue ran teasingly over her bottom lip and Santana nearly lost it. She clutched at the blonde's hips, pulling her closer. The kiss was making her dizzy, and she needed something to ground her, to keep her from taking this too far.

"Britt," she spoke around kisses, "your friends..."

"They won't come in here," Brittany promised, moving her lips to Santana's neck, biting her plus point softly.

Her hand inched slowly up Santana's thigh, gripping tighter when Santana's let out the barest of moans. It slipped around the curve of her hip and under the fabric of her shirt. Santana gasped at the fingers dancing along the small of her back, surprised at the contact.

"Britt I—"

Brittany pulled away, looking startled and embarrassed, "Shit, Santana, I'm sorry—"

"Hey," Santana hushed her gently, slipping to her feet and gracing Brittany with a kiss that left her head spinning. She broke the kiss and grinned, "I was just going to suggest getting out of here, you know, since we've finished our painting lesson, I'm sure we could find something..." the implication in her voice was clear, "more productive to be doing with our time."

Brittany actually blushed when she asked, "Your place, or mine?"

Frankly, Santana didn't care.


	24. Chapter 24

Brittany's apartment was closer.

A brisk, giddy, walk of only a few blocks. They were inside the building and on Brittany's floor before too long. The apartment was different at night, an open space with the only light pouring in from the large windows. The moonlight pooled on the hardwood floor and Santana had to take a breath to say, "This place is pretty at night."

Brittany turned from where she had been locking the door and smiled, her eyes and complexion caught the moonlight in a way that Santana found radiant. This woman was beautiful, she was smart, and kind, and patient, a Santana was completely in love.

Brittany took an appreciative glance around before focusing entirely on Santana, in a sly whisper she said, "I love it."

Santana's heart thudded in her chest, because she knew Brittany wasn't talking about the apartment. She was looking at Santana like there was nothing else she would rather be looking at. Her eyes fluttered closed just before they kissed.

They kissed heatedly, unable to get enough, until they were breathing heavier and needed more than just kisses. Brittany stepped closer, wanting to close all the space between them, but Santana stepped back. When she tried again and got the same response, a pouting noise escaped her.

Santana grinned into their kiss as Brittany took another a step forward, one she matched with a step back. Catching onto Santana's playful nature, and without thinking, Brittany reached out, taking the lapels of the her jacket, and guiding her, in a gentle roughness, against the wall. She pressed their bodies flush, one leg between the brunette's.

Santana's gasp made Brittany pause, she pulled away from Santana's neck to ask, "Is this okay?"

Santana had to blink a couple times to try to figure out why Brittany's eyes were so concerned, before she could say anything, Brittany was already starting pulling away from her. Santana took hold of Brittany's jacket this time, pulling the blonde back in for a fierce kiss. It didn't take Brittany long to realize that it was okay. The arm wrapping around her waist hand pulling her against Santana told her it was more than okay.

"I'm sorry," Brittany laughed between kisses, she could feel Santana's hands guiding her jacket off her shoulders, down her arms, then finally falling to the floor. "I just wanted to make sure this was okay—"

"Only with you."

Santana ran her hands up Brittany's newly exposed arms. Her mouth finding Brittany's pulse point and sucking the soft skin. Brittany made a small noise, pressing into Santana further, her thigh slipped between Santana's again and the smaller woman's breathing hitched.

It was a little work, because she was pinned to the wall, but they were able to get Santana's jacket off. Brittany took her by the hips, thumbs teasing under the hem of her shirt. Santana was a little more obvious with her hands, gripping the material of Brittany's shirt and pulling it up. With a smile, Brittany broke their kiss to help the material over her head.

"How..." Santana's eyes swept over Brittany's stomach, followed shortly by her hands. Brittany shivered at her touch, "How do you have such an amazing body, and you don't work out at all?"

Her tone wasn't remotely jealous, but genuinely curious about such a phenomenon. It made Brittany laugh, a blush flaring up across her face, "I have a pretty fast metabolism. I'm pretty lucky."

Santana smirked, "I think I'm the lucky one."

Brittany's blush deepened but Santana just smiled, taking Brittany's hands in her own, she guided them to the wall on either side of her shoulders. The look in Santana's eye implied that they should stay there.

Santana kissed her once, then again on her jaw, then again on the crook of her neck, all the while her hands ran along Brittany's arms, over her shoulders, then continued to explore Brittany's torso. She traced the delicate definition of stomach muscles, ghosted up and down Brittany's sides, tracing the top of her jeans.

Brittany's breathing was getting heavier. In her shoes, her toes were curling. Her muscles were jumping under Santana's touch, back arching at the smallest of contact. Her eyes closed tightly as a finger circled her hipbone. A small moan escaped her lips.

Santana was loving it. She raked her blunt nails down Brittany's torso, and the blonde's hips twitched forward.

"San," Brittany breathed thickly, her fingers curled into fists against the wall.

Santana shifted her hips, just enough to make the smallest amount of friction against Brittany's.

Brittany bit her lip, after another moan spilled past them. She pressed forward, guided by Santana's rhythm, the hands on her hips. She heard Santana's soft gasp, their chests brushing together as they molded impossibly closer together. One of her hands dropped to Santana's waist, because the teasing was over and now they just needed more.

It took a little concentration, but Brittany was able to focus enough to kiss the Latina softly and say, "Let's go upstairs."

Santana nodded breathlessly, letting Brittany's arms help her off the wall. They crossed the apartment and up the stairs in a fumble of kisses and fleeting touches.

Santana briefly wondered what Brittany's bedroom looked like in a light brighter than the small beam of moonlight coming in from the windows. Her curiosity would have to wait, she had more important things on her mind, and her eyes immediately fell to the bed.

And the eyes looking back at her.

She reared backwards in surprise, only a few feet from the edge of the bed, her shoulders colliding with Brittany's chest. The blonde's arms wrapped around her instantly, lips pressing against Santana's neck to leave a few kisses before asking, "What's wrong?"

Santana shook her head, clearing her mind of the wandering hands in her shirt, "Your cat."

Brittany looked up from Santana's neck and into the room for the first time. There, squarely in the middle of the bed, was Lord Tubbington.

He looked less than amused.

Brittany laughed, her breath still shaky from their start downstairs, "Tubbs, I need my bed now."

"I thought he liked to sleep in the bathtub," Santana mumbled. If this cat ruined her evening they were never staying at Brittany's apartment again.

"Tubbington," Brittany slipped around Santana and towards the bed, "please, come here."

The cat refused to move and Santana wasn't surprised. Brittany bent forward, to reach the middle of the bed and try to coax the cat towards her.

Santana came up behind Brittany and traced a small pattern into the small of her back. Brittany squirmed under her touch.

"Tubbs," Brittany tried again, "please."

After pulling her shirt over her head, and tossing it somewhere on the floor, Santana moved a little closer. Boldly, she took Brittany's hips in her hands, and leaning over her to kiss the space between her shoulders.

Brittany took in a short breath, feeling Santana's hips pressing against her backside, the bare stomach against her back.

"Santana, you're not helping," she wished her voice had sounded a little firmer, but it was the best she could do with a hand following the hem of her jeans, playing idly with the button.

"And your cat is being a total cockblock," Santana mumbled into her shoulder, lips tickling the skin. She popped the button slowly, her hips canting forwards softly.

Brittany gripped the blanket tightly, pulling with as much care as she could under the circumstances. With the blanket, Lord Tubbington slid towards them, making a quiet, but displeased, grumble.

"I'm sorry, Tubbs," Brittany cooed scooping him up. Santana stood back so Brittany could take the large cat through a door in the corner.

When Brittany returned, Santana wasn't sure if it was her undone jeans, the sensual smile on her face, or light in her eyes, but she had to say, "You're so beautiful, Brittany."

Brittany ducked her head as she closed the distance between them.

"Thank you, but first," she reached out, taking Santana's glasses between her fingers and slipping them off carefully. She watched Brittany set them neatly on the nightstand before her finger hooked into Santana's jeans, "Now, for the rest of it."

* * *

><p>Sitting against her headboard, Brittany flipped through the pages of her notebook. She was almost finished with her second draft. With two weeks to edit, and a few days to make the final touches, she should make her deadlines. Once Rachel gets back things will really hit off. Satisfied with what she had so far, Brittany closed her notebook and set it on the nightstand.<p>

Santana's arm, the one that had been thrown over her thighs, twitched a little, and she peeked one eye up at Brittany.

"You done?"

Brittany smiled, "You're awake?"

"I've been awake since you left to get your notebook," Santana mumbled into Brittany's hip. That had been at least an hour ago.

"Do you make a habit of laying in bed while you're awake?" Brittany ran her hand though Santana's hair, massaging her scalp softly.

Santana rolled her shoulders in a stretch, "I like to think."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Work," Santana said slowly, "and stuff."

Brittany had a pretty good idea what stuff Santana was thinking about, and she wished that the woman would stop thinking about it. Artie wasn't worth this kind of self-punishment. Brittany's hand slipped down and started massaging the base of Santana's neck. After a little while the tension eased and the line between her eyebrows disappeared.

"Are you going back to Ohio," Brittany asked quietly, "to meet your stepsisters fiance?"

"No," Santana sighed, "she could hardly care less, but my dad is kind of upset."

"Why aren't you going?"

"Because I need to focus on this expo," Santana pursed her lips silently. "I know it seems callous, but I need to look out for me right now, and honestly, I'm not trying to fly to hicksville and watch my stepsister and my stepmother fawn over some... I can't remember what he does for a living."

"Does your family know about you? That you're gay, I mean."

"They do," Santana took a deep breath, letting the smell of Brittany's sheets calm her. "When I came out to them... I don't think they knew what to do with it. They gave me one of those 'oh... okay' kind of things and just swept it under the table to forget about."

"But they freaked out when you changed your major?" Brittany almost wanted to laugh.

"I know! It was like," Santana grinned sleepily, putting on a Mexican accent, "Oh you're gay? That's nice dear, lets not mention it again. You don't want to be a doctor? You're no longer apart of this family, call us when you come to your senses."

"I'm sorry, San," Brittany thumbed the woman's earlobe and smirked when she squirmed.

Santana took Brittany's wrist, pulling her hand away from her ear and to her mouth. She kissed Brittany's palm and said, "It's fine, that's why I don't really talk to them. They're ridiculous."

That made Brittany kind of sad, she got along really well with her family and wished it was the same for Santana.

"I'm going to the computer lab at Clockwork tonight," Santana yawned. "Probably late, around eight, just to make sure the place is empty, did you want to come with?"

"Of course," Brittany nudged her shoulder, "come on, Tubbs needs his breakfast as much as we do."

"That cat really doesn't need any more food," Santana snorted as she sat up. "I bet he could live off his own body fat for the next ten years."

"Santana," Brittany scolded, hitting her arm lightly, "don't be mean."

She bit her lip, because she could tell Brittany was being entirely serious. She mumbled, "Sorry, Britt."

"Thank you," Brittany kissed her forehead lightly, "but don't let him hear you talking like that, he's just as body conscious as you are."

"I'm not body conscious," Santana grumbled as she put on her tee shirt.

"You are very self-conscious when it comes to your image, Santana," Brittany chuckled as she threw her a pair of sweatpants. "I'm not saying its something horrible, or petty, I'm just saying it's something you do."

Santana watched Brittany walk around her bedroom in only a long tee shirt that barely covered anything important. Obviously she wasn't body conscious at all.

"And it makes sense," Brittany continued as she found her own pair a pajama pants, slipping them on smoothly, "I mean, with the photo shoots and all, I'm sure you're under a lot of pressure."

Santana sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, slowly raking her teeth over it.

"Which is silly because you're so pretty, Santana."

"Yeah," she scoffed, "layers of makeup, and ten pounds of hairspray really makes me feel _so_sexy."

"No, I mean just like this," Brittany smiled softly and walked over to the bed. She ran her hand through Santana's sleep tousled hair and said, "with your hair all crazy and your eyes sleepy from sleep."

Santana blushed, "I think you're biased."

"You'll have to take my word for it," Brittany kissed the top of her head, and hoped that Santana would.

* * *

><p>"Pass me the editorial section."<p>

Santana obliged, watching Brittany set her empty bowl aside to spread the newspaper out in front of her. Santana was studying the stocks and Brittany had already made fun of her for liking the most boring part of the paper.

She glanced over to the large cat lounging on the platform of Brittany's study. It was staring at her again, his tail swaying methodically back and forth. Santana finished the rest of her cereal and mumbled, "I don't think your cat likes me."

"Well maybe if you didn't call him fat," Brittany teased from her spot at the island next to Santana, "he would be a little friendlier."

"I think he's angry that we kicked him out of the bed last night," Santana found the thought amusing, "and had to sleep in the bathtub."

"That might be it too," Brittany smiled, her stomach twirling at the memory. "Seriously though, he might not like you yet, but he doesn't hate you. If he did he wouldn't even show himself while you were here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he—" Brittany cut herself off quickly.

"What?" Santana asked, catching Brittany's hesitation.

"Tubbs," Brittany fidgeted with the newspaper, "really didn't like my last boyfriend. Like, he wouldn't come out at all when he was here."

"Hm," Santana nodded once. "Well, that makes me feel a little better."

"You're still thinking about it," Brittany said quietly.

She could tell of course, there was an undercurrent to the way Santana might zone out every once in a while. Her eyes would go unfocused and a small frown came to her features. Santana glanced back down to her paper, she knew exactly what Brittany was talking about. She had tried to move on, push down the hurt for Brittany's sake, and to get back to her normal self, but it wasn't a perfect mask.

"You shouldn't be so quick to brush it under the table."

Brittany thought about it for a moment, "I'd rather move on then watch you beat yourself up about it."

Santana rubbed her face, "I think I'm allowed to be a little critical about the whole thing."

"Why?" Brittany didn't understand, but she didn't like Santana's tone. "Critical about what exactly?"

"What kind of woman gets taken advantage of by a paraplegic?" Santana's voice became oddly calm. She was trying to hold herself in check and Brittany could tell that it was hard for her. She wanted to be able to talk about it, but was worried that she was going to become too emotional if she wasn't in complete control. "That doesn't even make any sense."

Santana stood up, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive posture. She walked up to one of Brittany's large windows. Brittany's eyes followed her across the room. It was only a moment before Santana turned back towards her, her hands clenched tightly under her arms, "I could have _literally_ walked away at any moment."

"Santana," Brittany spoke softly, hoping she wouldn't offend. "If you were too messed up to even remember it, how were you supposed to—"

"I was supposed to have a fucking brain and never have put myself in that position in the first place," Santana crossed her arms tighter and turned back to the window.

"San, you were drunk—"

She turned back around, pointing an accusing finger to her own chest, her tone loosing it's steady and resolute nature, "I let this happen—"

Her voice lost a a level of control with each admission.

"I went to his stupid apartment—"

One of her arms cut out to the side, pointing to an imaginary place.

"I drank that much, I let him manip—"

Santana's jaw snapped shut, and she turned back to the window. Brittany could see her small frame taking large, shaking, breaths. She slipped off her stool and walked steadily closer to the fragile woman, needing to be near, hoping she could comfort her in some way. Santana could hear her walking closer, heels hitting the hardwood with soft thuds. She wrapped her arms around herself in small attempt to keep from turning around and clutching desperately to her girlfriend.

"You can't Jedi mind trick someone into doing _that_," Santana joked bitterly. "All I had to do was walk away."

"Shh," Brittany took a chance and slipped her arms around Santana's waist, kissing her shoulder lightly. "You're being too hard on yourself for even thinking that this was somehow your fault. Tina never thought of it like that, I don't think of it like that. If you were messed up enough to not remember what happened, there's no telling how vulnerable you were."

Brittany couldn't even imagine what that would feel like. Santana had let herself become defenseless to someone she cared about, and they abused her trust in the worst possible way.

"Why don't we watch the video and find out?"

Her voice was so cold, a vast contradiction to the warm tears that fell over her cheeks.

"That is the _absolute_ worst part," Santana was barely able to keep her voice from shaking. "He sent her a fucking video? How heart breaking is that? I can't even—I don't know how she still talk to me after I—"

If there was one thing Santana wanted people to value about her, it was her mind. Artie had stepped all over that. Then, he flaunted it to the person that she cared about the most, making sure that Tina knew that he had dominated Santana in more ways than one. The amount of emotional manipulation was more than she could cope with, and was more traumatizing than the physical aspect of what happened that night.

She had been blaming herself this whole time. Brittany paused.

"Santana..." she coaxed the woman to turn around so they were facing each other. Santana kept her head down, her eyes didn't leave the floor. "Santana, did you... did you break up with Tina because you felt like you had cheated on her."

Santana covered her face with her hands and all but collapsed into Brittany's arms.

"Oh honey," Brittany was about to start crying too. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

"I hurt her," Santana's voice was muffled through her fingers and it was so tragic. "I didn't know what happened, I couldn't remember, but I knew there was no way he could like, force me. He's fucking handicapped."

"Santana," Brittany shook her head gently and held her close. "Please, you have to understand that we still love you. What happened will never change that. Tina forgave you a long time ago."

"I know," she brushed her face free of tears. "I know she did. She thinks it's her fault as much as I think it's mine."

"When it's really his fault," Brittany said sternly, she took Santana's shoulders in her hands and made the woman meet her eyes. "I'm not asking you to hate him," she didn't know how to explain it, "I just wish you girls would realize that you're beating yourselves up over something that he did. _He_ did this to you, Santana, and no one is holding it against you but yourself."

Santana blinked slowly at Brittany.

"I need you to know that I don't think any less of you because of this, Santana," Brittany's voice was almost pleading. "Do you know that?"

She took in a shaky breath and said, "I do."

"And Quinn, you mean the world to Quinn, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"And Tina," Brittany knew this was true because she saw it in the woman's eyes, "she would have given anything to have saved you from this."

Santana nodded, blinking tears back, "I know."

"And she is so thankful that you called her up that day, looking for a photographer, and brought your lives back together."

"I am too," she admitted quietly.

"And... you know I love you?"

The threatening brim of tears spilled over as Santana bit her lip, whispering, "I do."

Brittany gently wiped the tears away with her thumbs, kissing Santana's forehead softly, "I can't get you to forgive yourself, but making sure you know all that... is a good start."

"I love you so much, Brittany."

She wrapped her arms around Santana's shoulders, pressing her lips into her hair and whispering, "I know."

* * *

><p>Clockwork was oddly peaceful at night.<p>

There was no employee hustle, no group of people chattering around the entryway, no one bumping into everyone else as they walked and typed on their cellphone. Brittany listened to their footfalls echo in the empty lobby Dimmed lights lined the room and cast long shadows along the floor. A lone security guard sat at the reception desk, and nodded to Santana as they passed.

"Miss Lopez," he said in greeting, taking a casual glance to her outfit, he had never seen her in jeans before.

"Evening," she gripped the straps of her computer bag a little tighter and pretended she didn't notice his eyes. When they were past his desk Santana mumbled to Brittany, "I wish we didn't have to come through the lobby, but every time I use one of the side entrances, even with my key card, some rent-a-cop always comes to see what's up."

They turned the corner to the elevators and Santana kept to her ritualistic path towards the service hall. The building might have been entirely empty save for the janitorial and security staff, but Santana's nerves were still on edge. She wasn't comfortable here. She liked her habits, her safeguards.

"Hey," Brittany took her arm, spinning her around.

Santana blinked up to her excited eyes, "Huh?"

"Let's take the real elevators," Brittany gestured to the large metal doors. They gleamed invitingly.

Santana had to smile, it was easy to forget that not everyone was uncomfortable of public elevators. She knew Brittany understood her feelings towards them, and had never complained about the service elevators. Tonight, when the only other person riding it will be Brittany, and there wasn't voyeur in sight, Santana could live a little, "Sure Britt."

She watched the woman press the up button with a bright smile. The arrow lit up and Brittany turned to Santana saying, "I feel like I'm breaking the rules."

"I can't remember the last time I used these things," Santana admitted.

Brittany flushed, "You know the first time you took me to your elevator, I thought we were going to some sort of underground laboratory, like Dexter's Lab or something."

Santana quirked an eyebrow as the doors opened, "Dexter's Lab? Is that the show about the serial killer?"

Brittany laughed, "No it's a cartoon about a scientist kid and his sister that always messes up his inventions."

"Right," Santana pretended she understood. "I'm sure you thought it was weird, that hallway can be a little creepy if you're not used to it."

They stepped in together and Santana hit the floor she wanted. Again, even if there wasn't anyone in the building, she was going to the hidden, out of the way, lab that she favored. Just in case.

"I did," Brittany looked around at the sleek walls and the decoratively riveted metal.

Being in Clockwork after hours felt exciting, like they were pulling a fast one on the people that kept this place from being a good work environment for Santana. Brittany felt a giddy energy run through her, somehow she had managed to steal Santana away from Clockwork for a few days and it had been a great few days.

This was the last night in Santana's, nearly forced, break from Clockwork. Tomorrow they would pick up their friends from the airport and things would go back to the madness of deadlines and meetings. With that, came the rules about being in a more occupied company building. She didn't want to admit it, because she told Santana she understood in the beginning, but Brittany didn't want to go back to pretending that they were just professional acquaintances.

Unfortunately, she knew it needed to happen. She respected Santana's work more than enough to make this sacrifice easily. Not to mention, it would keep her own feature from being jeopardized. They had entirely too much to lose, but that didn't mean Brittany didn't want to get as much out of this unencumbered time as she could.

"So, you started using your elevator because people acted inappropriately in this one?"

"Yes," Santana watched the numbers change.

"Did guys, like, stand too close to you?"

"Yes."

Santana bit her lip, feeling Brittany's presence appear just shy of her left shoulder. If anyone else had been standing there, with such a disregard to her personal space, she would have been tempted to turn around and inflict physical harm. Brittany however, smelled wonderful, and it reminded Santana of a time where they had disregarded each others personal space in the privacy of their bedrooms.

As she loomed behind her, Brittany's breath tickled the shell of Santana's ear when she asked, "Like this?"

Santana let out a puff of laughter, pushed her shoulder back into Brittany playfully, "Yes."

"Did they maybe," Brittany bit back a giggle as she stepped just a little closer. The back of her hand brushed along Santana's thigh, "touch you in a way that could have been an accident?"

Santana blushed. When those people accidentally touched her like that it made her skin crawl, but not in the warm goosebumps kind of way Brittany was creating. She leaned back, pressing her back to Brittany's front.

"Yes."

As the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Brittany started to brush past Santana mumbling, "Oh, pardon me."

Santana was confused by her rush to get out of the elevator, until a quick, but grasping, hand ran along the backside of her jeans. Brittany stepped into the hall, spinning to send a flirty grin at the woman still standing in the elevator.

"You coming?"

Santana flushed, adjusting her glasses in a show of bashful nerves. The way Brittany could take this situation, being affronted in an elevator and make her feel so bubbly about it, impressed Santana in a way she couldn't understand. Brittany turned it into a harmless game of foreplay. Something they could share.

"Yeah, I'm—"

"I got it," Brittany grinned, catching the elevator doors, one side in each hand, as they started to close.

"How is that, when you grab my ass in an elevator..." Santana shook her head with a chuckle, taking a step towards the blonde, and looking up at her through her bangs. "It make me want to kiss you, instead of slap you."

"I thought we agreed," Brittany shrugged her shoulders in a playfully cocky manner that made Santana laugh, "I'm pretty awesome."

"You are," she conceded softly, slipping under one of Brittany's arms, her own hand sliding over the woman's stomach as she passed, "Excuse me."

They moved down the hallway and into the lab in a smiling silence, sending coy glances at each other as they did. Brittany helped Santana set up her favorite work station, using every opportunity to brush their elbows, bump hips, and make the woman blush. After Santana had logged into the desktop computer, she turned around to get her tablet from her bag, and found herself an inch from Brittany's face when she did.

She swallowed her surprise and narrowed her eyes in a playful show of warning, "I'm not going to get any work done if you don't quit it."

"Maybe you need to focus a little harder," she teased quietly.

Santana was entirely too focused on how close their lips were from each other. Logically, she knew that they were alone in this computer lab, she knew that. Her heart was telling her that she needed to lean forward and kiss the woman she loved, maybe even leave the building and go back to the sanctuary they had created from themselves in the last few days.

Every insecurity she had was telling her that this wasn't the place to be making heartfelt confessions or having impromptu make out sessions. There were no friendly artist on the other side of the door, and there was more to lose than she wanted to admit.

Brittany held up the tablet that Santana had been looking for, "I got this for you."

"Thanks," Santana breathed.

She took the device and held it against her stomach as Brittany leaned forward, resting her hands against the desktop on either side of Santana's hips. Brittany wouldn't kiss her here, she was playing with the boundaries enough, but she would let Santana cross that path, if she wanted.

Santana's eyes fell to her lips, as she bit her own. She knew Santana wanted to, and that was enough for Brittany.

"I'll let you focus," Brittany smiled kindly as she pulled away, giving Santana the air she needed.

Santana nodded slowly and coughed into her fist as Brittany slid into one of the stools at the desk, using her own card to log into a computer. Not wanting to make if look like she denied Brittany for nothing, Santana made it appoint to get to work.


	25. Chapter 25

"I really hate airports," Santana frowned, crossing her legs and slouching in the nearly comfortable chair.

Brittany glanced up from the magazine she had stolen out of Santana's car. The woman was watching the people move around them with a scowl.

"For someone who was just gushing about how excited you are to see Quinn," Brittany teased, even with that face, she found Santana adorable, "you sure look like a pouty face."

"I'm not a..." Santana seemed confused and offended by the term, "pouty face."

Brittany gave her an agreeing smile that bordered on sarcastic, "Right."

"I am right," she brushed off Brittany's quip and continued, "and I was not gushing. I just mentioned that I miss her. That's not gushing."

"You mentioned it like," Brittany bit back a laugh, "twenty times."

Santana sighed, "Yeah, well, maybe I do miss her that much."

"I think it's sweet," Brittany said sincerely.

She knew what Quinn meant to Santana, and how exactly how excited Santana was to see her again. Brittany was happy about this too, not only was she getting Rachel back from her impromptu vacation, but Santana was getting another ally at Clockwork. They both had the feeling that the next few weeks before the big exhibition were going to be hard.

"So do I."

They looked up, finding familiar faces dragging suitcases.

"Q," it wasn't in Santana to hide her smile and she was out of her seat in an instant. Quinn had just enough time to drop her carry on in an empty chair before they were hugging.

"I missed you too, S."

They were vaguely aware that Brittany and Rachel were greeting each other in the same manner just next to them, but suddenly it was okay to act a little sappy. They had missed each other, and there was nothing wrong with showing it.

In a hushed voice Quinn said, "I'm so sorry I wasn't here—"

"Seriously Q, it's fine," Santana brushed her apology off gently, giving her best friend one last squeeze, "I wasn't alone. Britt and T were here."

"I should of came back," Quinn frowned as they parted. "I should have—"

"Helped me kill that asshole back in California," Santana smiled slyly, trying to joke about it, "that would have been the only _real_ solution."

Quinn laughed, catching on, "It did seem like a great idea at the time, and it would have been so easy too."

"Just cut his brakes right?" Santana smirked at the long running inside joke. "But it would've had to be when he was in the dorms because—"

"Then he wouldn't notice until he left—"

"And with that hill, he would have rolled right into—" Santana couldn't quite finish, she was trying to keep from laughing too hard and was just too happy have her friend back, someone that understood because she was there.

"Ah, too bad Holly talked you out of it," Quinn sighed, running her hand through her hair. "I was ready, had the wire cutters and everything."

Santana took a calming breath, a grin lingering on her face, "I believe it."

"Who are we conspiring against?" Rachel asked curiously from Brittany's side. Brittany looked equally curious, but for an entirely different reason; she knew who they were talking about, but she didn't know if Quinn had told Rachel about it.

Santana's smile faded a little, glancing to Quinn for an answer. For the first time she realized that Rachel might know everything. She didn't like that idea at all, everything was entirely too much. Quinn wouldn't have told her everything, right? But then again, Quinn had been worried enough to start booking a flight home, wouldn't Rachel want an explanation for that?

"No one important," Quinn's eyes reassured her. Rachel still looked puzzled, but a quiet understanding passed between them.

Santana raked her teeth over her bottom lip, acting quickly so there wouldn't be any further questions, "Here, let me get your bags."

Before Quinn could protest, the Latina was gathering up her things and nodded towards the exit, "Come on, you know I hate airports."

"I think you just hate being around so many people," Quinn smirked, turning to Rachel and taking the handle of her drag along suitcase.

After a mild protest that was really just a blush, Rachel let Quinn take it. The publicist gave her a small smile before falling into step with Santana. If either of them found it odd that they were the ones carrying the luggage, neither of them said anything.

A small distance fell between the pairs of friends, creating an implied sense of privacy so they could discuss the past week among themselves.

"How was the honeymoon?" Santana sent Quinn a sideways smirk.

"Shut up," Quinn rolled her eyes, but her face was flushing a little, "it wasn't like that, we had separate rooms."

Santana snorted, "And how long did that last?"

"A few days," Quinn mumbled, her blush darkening.

"Wow," Santana teased, "really playing hard to get, aren't you?"

"Like you're one to talk," Quinn rolled her eyes, "Kurt told me you took Brittany home after the convention. You brought her _home_, Santana."

They were both acutely aware that Santana had never brought anyone into that house with romantic intentions.

"He saw us get into a cab together," Santana scoffed, rolling her eyes, "he doesn't know what happened after that."

"Then tell me what happened after that," Quinn prompted with a challenge in her eye.

Santana could have easily lied. As it was, they never had been in the habit of talking about their relations, and Quinn would understand her instinct to be private. The bubbling delight about being able to talk about it with her best friend, admit that she was so happy, declare that she had found someone that was happy with her; that was too much to keep to herself.

She took a glance back, to make sure that Brittany and Rachel were too caught up in their own version of this conversation to pay attention to her.

"Maybe, that's exactly what happened," she knew she was blushing through the lopsided grin on her face, and didn't care, "and I finally had a reason to sleep in that bedroom that you've always insisted was so important."

"Well, you can thank me for that," Quinn laughed. She was loving this look on Santana, it was a liveliness she hadn't see in years. The smile, the light in her eyes, the playful humor about topics that would have been considered taboo a few months ago, Quinn was so happy for Santana. "Somehow, I don't think that cave you usually sleep in would have really set the mood."

"Shut up," Santana shook her head, rolling her eyes again, "Britt doesn't mind the basement."

"That's good because I haven't seen you this happy in forever," Quinn said it before she could stop herself.

Santana blinked a few times, trying to remember the last time she had been this happy.

"Not in a really long time, Q," she shrugged shyly. "But just wait until I get back to work, I'm sure I have about a hundred emails and fifty product reports waiting for me. It's going to be a hell of a day."

"You'll be fine," Quinn reassured her, "Trust me, getting your people ready for the expo isn't going to be nearly as chaotic as what's going on in my department."

There was something in her tone that made Santana ask, "What do you mean?"

"It's nothing to be worried about," Quinn followed Santana into the car park and looked back to make sure that the girls were still following them. "Just a precaution."

"Precaution to what?" she fished her keys out of her jacket pocket and popped the trunk of her car.

"That contact that I told you about," Quinn started helping Santana load the luggage, "the one in the marketing department that's keeping an eye on things for me—"

"Look at them, not together five minutes and already talking about work."

Rachel and Brittany's warm laughter echoed in the parking garage. Brittany sent Santana a private smile, happy that she was happy to have her best friend back. Rachel wandered a little closer to the blonde, and Quinn blushed at her proximity, her eyes flicking to the two other people in the area.

"I'm sorry," Quinn flushed a little, rubbing the back of her neck, "I know I promised to take it easy, at least until we got back to the office."

Santana smothered a laugh behind her hand, and bit her lip when Brittany gave her a chastising look, mumbling, "Don't be mean."

"Come on," Santana waved them to the car, walking to the passenger's door to open it for Brittany, "let's get you two home, I'm sure you're tired from the flight."

"It really wasn't that bad," Rachel shrugged.

"That's because you slept the whole time," Quinn nudged her shoulder lightly before they moved to opposite sides of the car. "On me, I might add."

"You liked it," Rachel brushed her bangs to the side coyly and sent Quinn a flirty smile before she ducked into the car.

Quinn flushed again, not missing Santana's amused expression, "Oh, shut up."

* * *

><p>"I think I like her."<p>

Quinn looked over her shoulder, finding Santana leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, "Who?"

"Rachel," Santana stepped into the bedroom, reacquainting herself with it. Quinn's room was so much more personable that her own. There were pictures on the walls, and a bookshelf of well loved novels, but more than that, she could feel Quinn in the room. There was a warm quality to it that her bedroom lacked.

"She's actually kind of funny," Santana finished, crossing her arms over her chest and walking up to one of the many collage style picture frames.

"You have no idea," Quinn continued unpacking her luggage, sorting it for dry cleaning. "I'm glad you like her."

Santana's eyes ran over the photos. A lot of them were from their college days, donning their sorority jackets. A few were of Quinn's family, her sister and mother. A vacation to the Grand Canyon, Quinn loved the sunny states. Santana wondered if she missed California.

"Quinn," Santana spotted a picture of herself and Tina sitting on a bench, it was one of their favorite spots on the UCLA campus, "I have to ask you something."

"Yes, I do think Brittany is too good for you, but she's the best thing that's ever happened to you, so I wont tell her to try to get out while she can."

Santana almost laughed, turning away from the photos, "You're so funny."

Quinn sent her a warm smile, "What's up, Santana?"

She licked her lips, suddenly nervous to say it out loud, "Did you know that Artie has a video of that night, back at UCLA?"

"He what?"

Santana took Quinn's wide-eyed and horrified expression as a no.

"He sent it to Tina," Santana hugged herself a little tighter. "She saw everything."

"She told you that?" Quinn asked quietly, watching her friend carefully, trying to gauge how she was dealing with this information. She was never leaving town again, too much happened when she was away.

"No," Santana let out a bitter laugh, "I overheard her tell Brittany about it. She doesn't know that I know."

"Why would she tell Brittany?"

"They were having a little moment," Santana waved her hand vaguely because she couldn't really explain it, "I don't think she was planning on it or anything, they just got all emotional and it slipped out. You know how easily Tina starts to cry."

Quinn took a deep breath, trying to figure it all out, "And he sent it to her because..."

"He was trying to break us up, he told her he had... feelings for me," Santana mumbled, the words still felt odd on her tongue.

Quinn kept her mouth shut, readjusting. Santana must have seen the perplexed look on her face because she said, "I know, it doesn't make any sense."

"It does...in a way," she shrugged, blinking slowly. "I mean, you two were always such an odd pair, but it worked so well and... " Quinn ran her hands through her hair, laundry momentarily forgotten, "you two spent so much time together, working on projects no one else understood. He would have been a fool to _not_fall for the girl that was so into the stuff he was into. You said it yourself, back then half the guys in your classes were crushing on you so bad that they hated Artie because you were always his partner. He might have let it go to his head—"

"Please, don't try to make sense of this, Q," Santana whispered harshly, because even if she hadn't meant it that way, Quinn was dangerously close to saying that she had lead him on. "I'd rather it didn't make any at all."

"I'm sorry," Quinn bit her lip, and there was a pause before she asked the next obvious question, "Does she still have it?"

Santana shrugged shortly, "I don't know."

"Do you want her to?"

"Yes," Santana had to admit it.

"Are you—" Quinn's shook her head startled at the thought, "Santana, you can't be thinking about watching that video."

She shrugged again, because she didn't know what she would do once she found out if Tina still had it or not.

"Santana," Quinn's gentle voice held a very subtle but definitive undertone to it, "you can't."

"It could answer so many questions."

"It could destroy you, _again_."

"Quinn, I'm not—"

Quinn crossed the room, and stubbornly Santana held her ground, even if her arms crossed tighter around her body.

"I'm not going to let that jackass do this to you again," Quinn didn't miss the defiant look in Santana's eye, she was trying to be strong and act like this wasn't a big deal, like Artie had never hurt her. Quinn knew that was far from the truth. "Santana, you didn't leave your bedroom for weeks after that night."

"I went to class," Santana rebuffed, although weakly.

"Only after Holly came and dragged your ass back to campus."

"A lot of good that did me," Santana rolled her eyes. "I should have just transferred to Berkeley then."

"Even then," Quinn ignored her, "you were like a zombie the entire time. You wouldn't talk to anyone, including Tina, all you did was work on your final projects. I had to cut off the power to get you to come out of your room and eat."

"And I nearly put you through a wall," the memory would have made her laugh on any other day, but right now all she could do was remember how out of it she had been. She threw herself into her school work so that she wouldn't have to think about anything else, not Artie, or Tina, or what she might not have done that night.

"My point being," Quinn shook Santana's shoulders to make the woman met her eyes, "I watched the _idea_ of what might of happened that night eat you alive, then when the pictures came out—"

"Don't," Santana's hollow voice cut her off. "Don't even."

"I'm sorry," Quinn breathed, squeezing softly on her shoulders, "but I can't let you do this, Santana."

"It's not really up to you," Santana pursed her lips, her eyes falling to the floor to escape Quinn's worried eyes, "I have to do this, Q. I need to know what the fuck went down. I can't just—you should think of it as getting some sort of closure."

"Or reopening old wounds," Quinn tried, one last time.

"Consider the shit opened," Santana scoffed, "I have a new stack of porno's with my face on them to prove it."

"San—"

"I get that you're worried," Santana hugged her because it was the only was she could show she was thankful for that fact, "I get that. Hell, I would be worried too after everything I've put you through... but I have to do this."

Quinn wrapped her arms around her small frame, wishing it didn't have to be this way. She wished she could protect Santana from this in a way she hadn't been able to before. "I'll be here, if you need someone to sit with you, or whatever."

"I know," Santana pulled away and almost smiled, "and hey, maybe we'll luck out and Tina doesn't even have it anymore."

Quinn could only hope.

* * *

><p>"Can I add you on Facebook?"<p>

Santana glanced up from her morning emails. It was already looking like today was going to be a little rough, "What?"

"Facebook," Brittany tilted the computer monitor on her desk because it answered her question.

Her own profile was on Brittany's screen, well, what wasn't blocked by her privacy settings; which was everything. She didn't even allow people to see her profile picture if they weren't on an approved list.

"Are you supposed to ask permission before you send a friend request?" Santana asked with a smile.

"Probably not, but I'm not going to send a request if you're not going to accept it," Brittany chuckled, "that would be pointless."

"Why wouldn't I accept it?"

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged, picking up the wireless mouse to look at the bottom of it. She was avoiding Santana's eyes because she didn't want it to seem like this was a big deal. It wasn't really, but then again... on some level, it really was. "You said you don't have work people on your personal stuff like this."

"Don't be silly," Santana quirked an eyebrow, "you're not work people."

Brittany smiled and didn't need to hear any more than that, "Awesome."

Santana clicked around her web browser until she was logged into the same website and sure enough, Brittany S. Pierce wanted to be her friend. Santana accepted the request without hesitation and with that taken care of, she minimized the window. She had too much work to do to waste any time on Facebook right now.

"You have like," Brittany wasn't even ashamed to be going through Santana's page, "forty-eight friends."

"I don't do the acquaintance thing," Santana scrunched up her nose at the thought, "some people have three thousand friends on that thing and don't talk to more than fifteen of them. It's ridiculous."

"I think some of that is about networking," Brittany wanted to laugh, "just in case you need to get a hold of someone."

"I have a professional email for work contacts, and a cellphone. If you don't have access to either of those, it's not my problem."

"You're adorable," Brittany sent Santana a sideways glance and turned back to her cyber stalking.

It didn't look like Santana was on this profile more than two or three times a week, status updates were sporadic and usually links to articles about new technology and computer developments. She noticed that Santana had posted a link to an online version of Holly Holiday's recently published dissertation.

Holly Holiday commented on the post, _"I expect to see your name in this journal soon. ps- I saw the newest promo adds for cock-work. Chica, how you be so pretty? #let me love you."_

"You're friends with your old professor?" Brittany mused, clicking on Holly's icon. "The one you always talk about."

"I do not always talk about her," Santana rolled her eyes, but she knew that she never talked about any other professor.

Most of Holly's profile information was set to private, but her job title showed that she was still working at UCLA. Brittany studied her profile picture, and had to admit, "She's pretty."

"Hm," Santana made a small nose of disinterest.

Brittany smirked, "I'm sure she's very smart as well."

"She is," Santana mumbled around the end of her pen, still squinting at her computer screen. "She would be the department Chairman, like in charge of the entire Computer Science Department, if she hadn't deferred it to someone else."

"Why would she do that?"

"Loves teaching too much," Santana shrugged, "you can't run a department and juggle her level of graduate classes at the same time."

"Do you regret taking your job?" Brittany asked quietly.

"You mean because I would have more time in the lab instead of answering these emails?" Santana snorted lightly, glancing up from her monitor.

"Yeah," Brittany smiled back. "You seem to enjoy the practical part of your work much more than the administrative stuff."

"No, I don't regret it," Santana shook her head softly. "Some days are better than others, I'll give you that, but since I came in, the department has been _ridiculously_ more proficient. We're ahead of Orbit for the first time in years, and I'm totally proud of that. That makes all of this shit worth it."

Brittany was pretty proud of that too.

"Speaking of running the department," Santana closed out of her last email, "we have to get to the floor."

"Right," Brittany started logging off and grabbed her notebook.

Santana was about to lock her computer, but the Facebook window caught her eye. For the sake of her curiosity, Santana clicked on Brittany's name to bring up her profile. She wanted to see if the blonde had changed her profile picture from their shoes at the gym.

Brittany had, and the new photo made Santana's stomach flutter. Again, there were no faces in the photo, just two objects sitting on a vague surface.

Her glasses, resting on top of Brittany's notebook. From the closeup quality of the picture you couldn't tell that they were sitting on Brittany's nightstand, but Santana knew. Brittany must have taken this picture the morning after she spent the night. Santana reached up instinctively to adjust her glasses but touched her face instead. She frowned, remembering that she was wearing contacts.

"Are you alright?"

Santana blinked up, finding Brittany standing just on the other side of her desk, watching her curiously. She relaxed a little when she realized that Brittany couldn't see her screen at that angle, so she logged out quickly and said, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"So stressed already?" Brittany teased, "I'm going to call Kurt and have him bring you another coffee."

"I just might need one actually," she stood, moving around her desk and next to Brittany. "But for now..."

She could feel the smile on Brittany's face when she kissed her cheek. She lingered for just a heartbeat, wishing she understood why that photo meant so much to her. Falling back to her heels, Santana breathed slowly, a small smiled on her face, "I think that will have to do."

Brittany held her eyes, then with a playful light to them, the blue orbs traveled to Santana's lips, then further south. Santana shivered under her gaze, barely able to keep from blushing when Brittany caught her eyes again and whispered, "For now."

It was a promise that Santana would love to keep.

* * *

><p>Even if she hadn't known that the Clockwork's largest exhibition was just around the corner, Brittany would have been able to figure out that there was something important about to happen. Clockwork was absolutely buzzing with activity. People were tense, deadlines had to be met, meetings booked, phone calls made, things needed to happen and quick.<p>

There was general undercurrent of anxiety, but Brittany was oddly proud that the IT Department seemed to be the less frazzled of them all. Santana was holding her people in check, keeping a strong focus and making things happen. What surprised her was when, in the few moments that Santana excused herself to handle something personally, Brittany had been approached by a few different office hands inquiring about Santana's guidance on this or that. Brittany always answered to the best of her abilities

"Hey," Brittany caught Santana's arm as she passed through the COG floor again, making her way towards the main lab, "you wanted Eddie to take point on the accessories display right?"

"Who?" Santana's eyebrows furrowed slightly as she shuffled through the assignments roster on her tablet.

"His last name is Simmons," Brittany amended, Santana always called him by his last name.

Santana looked back up from the list, "Yeah, why?"

"John Campbell asked me," Brittany shrugged, "and that's what I told him. I just wanted to make sure I was right."

"Why did he ask you?" Santana quirked an eyebrow and Brittany couldn't tell if she was amused or annoyed at the idea.

"Probably because you weren't in the area," she watched the people around them continue to work, "or he's scared of you."

Santana laughed at that, and a few people stopped their work to glance over. It seemed like they weren't used to Santana in any sort of good mood. "He should be, but if you get any more questions and you don't know, just call me okay? I'll always pick up for you."

"Good to know," Brittany smiled warmly.

"This place probably looks like a mad house," Santana took a moment to look around while no one needed anything from her. This would give the guys in the lab a few more minutes to prepare for her inspection, and she really just wanted to talk to the blonde.

"I think it's awesome," Brittany admitted, "I love the energy."

"Yeah," she sighed, with a hopeful smile, "it's pretty cool when everything is going right."

"As long as you're in charge," Brittany joked lightly, a flirty quality to her tone, "everything will be fine."

"Shut up."

As she glanced away, trying to hide her blush, Santana paused, noticing a woman she's never seen before. She was small, and Asian, and struggling with a two boxes of flies. She was wearing a lanyard around her neck that identified her as a floor clerk, which would explain the boxes, but not the reason that she was standing there struggling as Josh Coleman spoke to her. He was leaning casually against a cubical wall, and altogether too predatory for Santana's liking.

"Hey," Santana met Brittany's eyes for a moment, "I'll be right back, hold this for me?"

"Alright," Brittany looked curious, but took Santana's tablet and didn't ask.

Santana moved quickly and with a purpose. Smoothly she walked up to the woman, who was surprisingly shorter than herself, and took one of the boxes from her, "There you are, we've been waiting for these files."

"Oh! I um," the woman stuttered, surprised at Santana's forwardness. She glanced at Coleman, "Please excuse me, Mr. Coleman, but I have to get back to work."

Coleman, who had been in a glaring contest with Santana since she had arrived, almost didn't even hear her, "Right, well, that offer still stands. Whenever you're interested."

"I'll um, keep it in mind," she readjusted the box in her hands, now significantly lighter without the one Santana had taken.

"I would keep your offers, and anything else you might be spreading around, to yourself," Santana spoke under her breath but loud enough for him to hear. "And get the fuck off my floor."

He bristled, and Santana watched his eyes skate around the area. There were too many people in the around for him to cause a scene, and they were already drawing attention. With one final look of contempt, he turned on his heel and walked away. Santana watched him go with a small sense of accomplishment before looking towards the woman, "So, where are we going with these?"

She ducked her head, shuffling the box to one arm so she could adjust her vintage wayfarer glasses. She seemed nervous, "Miss Lopez, you really don't need to—I can get them myself, it's no trouble."

"You might as well just tell me where we're going," Santana gave her a casual half shrug, "because I'm not giving you this box back. I don't know how long that jerk had you stuck here, but even this one box is heavy, you deserve a little help."

The woman glanced up to Santana with conflicted eyes.

Santana took a step in what she hoped was the right direction, "Call it professional courtesy."

The shorter woman gave a puff of laughter and started moving in step with the Latina, "It's the first I've seen since I've started working here."

"How long ago was that," Santana asked conversationally, "I haven't seen you around, at least not on this floor."

"Not too long, maybe a month and a half, I usually work in Marketing," she explained after a brief hesitation, "but someone called in sick and we needed to cover down."

"I don't envy you," Santana frowned, "I hate everyone in that department."

"Trust me," she sent Santana a sideways smile as they walked into a storage room. "I know what you mean."

"Hey," Santana's voice became a little serious as the door behind them closed, leaving them alone with a room full of files, "what's your name?"

"Sunshine," she dropped the box on the appropriate shelf and came to take Santana's, "Sunshine Corazon. It's a weird name, I know, but my mother loved it."

Santana laughed lightly, "Don't worry, I've heard some weird ones, but listen," she held onto the box as Sunshine tried to take it, "things around here can get a little... inappropriate if you know what I mean, and if there was something you needed, my office is always open."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sunshine's eyes met Santana's with a curious humor. She knew exactly what she meant, and was almost amused that Santana had brought it up. She tugged the box out of Santana's hands, "and I'm not lying this time."

Santana nodded, because that's all she needed to say, "I'm glad, it was nice meeting you, Sunshine."

"You too, Miss Lopez."

Walking out of the storage room, Santana found Brittany's eyes from across the floor immediately, because Brittany had been watching the door since she disappeared through it.

"I'm sorry," Santana ran a hand through her hair, not really sure why she felt guilty about leaving Brittany to play savior to a complete stranger.

"Because you're obviously into Asians?"

"I am not—" Santana stuttered, a deep flush coming over her face.

"I'm kidding," Brittany bit her lip to keep from giggling. "I know that you were playing interference with that man. I don't like him, he creeps me out."

"Yeah, me too," Santana took a deep breath, clearing the blush from her face.

"How long has she been working here?" Brittany asked a little seriously. She caught Sunshine's eyes as the woman walked out of the storage room, pushing a cart full of printer paper.

"About a month," Santana repeated, taking back her tablet and figuring out what else needed to be attended to right now.

"Her name?"

"Sunshine Corazon," Santana smirked, "I'm not sure if that beats Holly Holiday, but it's close."

"She told you that was her name?"

Santana glanced at Brittany curiously before answering, "Yeah, Britt."

Brittany made a small noise of interest, her eyes following Sunshine through a pair of double doors.

"Please don't tell me you're like," Santana didn't really know how to put this politely, "threatened or something like that."

Brittany burst into laughter, waving off Santana's question with an honest smile, "Oh my goodness, no. Not about what you're thinking anyway."

Santana was about to ask another question, but her phone rang, she sent Brittany an apologetic look before answering the call. The call only lasted a moment and Santana was already on the move, "I have to go upstairs for some corporate crap. I'll meet you back here for lunch?"

"Of course," Brittany nodded, she waited until Santana left the floor before she made her way to the double doors she had been eying a moment ago.

Curious, she was curious, and maybe just a little threatened.


	26. Chapter 26

"What are to doing here?"

The woman looked around the empty copy room, it kind of explained everything, but for added measure she said, "This printer is empty, I'm refilling it."

"Don't be cute," Brittany crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

"I really don't know what you want me to say," Sunshine shrugged, sliding a stack of copy paper into the machine's drawer and closing it.

"I want to know why you are here," Brittany stepped closer, "in Clockwork, working my story."

"I'm not working the Lopez bit," Sunshine quirked her eyebrows up in a show of defiance, "in fact, I was told to stay away from her, and you. I'm working the lead Rachel gave me."

"What lead?" Brittany was surprised, but kept her composure.

What was another journalist doing in Clockwork? Why hadn't Rachel told her about this?

"Brittany," Sunshine's demeanor became a little softer, she was tired and hated having to explain herself, "I know we've never been formally introduced, and you were always a friendly face around the office, one of the only friendly faces actually."

"They would be a little nicer if you wouldn't poach their stories," Brittany bit off, "like you're doing right now!"

She couldn't believe this was happening. Sunshine Corazon was notorious for picking up on a reporter's piece, doing a little more investigatory work, and bringing it to Rachel as a scoop instead of the assigned word bite. If Sunshine Corazon was snooping around your story, chances were that there was more to it than meets the eye, including the reporter already assigned to the piece. She was one of the best investigatory journalist _The Lead_ managed to contract and specialized in her ability to go undercover when the need suited her.

While it was great for Rachel, and the magazine as a whole, the reporters who's stories were stolen never took kindly to the woman. Brittany had always treated her with a level of respect, because she was a journalist that could see past the obvious and connect the dots. It was something Brittany had always admired about her work, enough to overlook how it didn't turn out well for her fellow reporters...

Until now.

Sunshine frowned, insulted, "Or they're jealous of Rachel's confidence in me, which is why I'm here."

"This is my story," Brittany couldn't believe Rachel would do this to her. This was her feature. Santana, Clockwork, it was all her piece. She had worked so hard on this. She had put in all the research hours. She had been the one shadowing Santana. Did Rachel think that her objectivity was compromised because of their relationship? Was she right? Had she ruined this for herself by getting too involved with the subject?

"I'm not poaching it!" Sunshine said earnestly, "I told you I'm not working the Lopez angle, I wouldn't even be on this floor if I didn't have to in order to protect my cover."

"What's your lead then?" Brittany asked seriously, "if you're not trying to steal my story, what are you investigating?"

"Clockwork as a whole," Sunshine lowered her voice, glancing to the door.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a lot of cooperate politics going on right now, Rachel's PR contact, the one that's friends with Santana Lopez—"

"Quinn Fabray," Brittany offered and Sunshine nodded.

"They cooked something up together, her and Rachel, some sort of strategy just in case Clockwork cuts your feature on Lopez."

Brittany's heart pounded heavily in her ears, "Is Rachel planning for them to cut the feature?"

"I don't think so," Sunshine looked sympathetic. "I think they're really using it as an opportunity to make a political play, and they're using me to get as much dirt on St. James as they can before they do. Really, I'm just a glorified spy."

"Was this mostly Quinn's idea?"

"I'm not sure, but that Fabray woman isn't playing around. In the short time that I've been working here I've already notice how she's turning the tides and Rachel's ready for a lawsuit, she wants to help get rid of the toxic leadership around here."

"Is she going against Jesse St. James?" Brittany's thoughts were going a mile a minute.

Sunshine nodded, "He's a player in it, and some big CEO. My focus is the marketing department and the string of sexual harassment suits that have been hushed over."

"What CEO?"

"You know that a few years ago the owner of Clockwork died right?"

"Yeah, then his share of the company went to his wife, but she's been giving executive control to a board of consultants," Brittany knew that from her research.

"Rumor has it," Sunshine glanced at her watch because she really had a lot of work to do, "she's coming back to the company to take over control. My bet is that Fabray want's to get to the woman before St. James does."

"Why didn't Rachel tell me about this?" Brittany asked quietly, more to herself than to Sunshine.

"She didn't want to pull your focus from Lopez," Sunshine offered, "plus, I've already agreed that nothing I find here is going to be published. They might threaten St. James with it, but they don't want it to come to that."

"Why are you doing this if it's not going to print?" Brittany frowned.

"As a favor to Rachel," Sunshine scratched her cheek a little timidly, "and she's giving me a column."

That was baffling to Brittany, "You want to be a columnist? You're one of the best journalists we have."

"Do you know what I've had to put up with ever since I got here?" Sunshine waved her hands around exasperatedly, "another orientation program to a fake job, so many men have made passes at me that I'm about to _stop bathing_ so they'll back off, I've stacked more files than I can count, and I've had enough of undercover work."

Brittany watched the small woman kick a box of printer paper.

"It's like this every time. Do you know how long I was the mayor's maid before I got the scoop on the affair?" she asked rhetorically. "I was his _maid_, Brittany. I walked around that house pretending I didn't know English and cleaning up after him, and to what? Ruin a man's reputation and tear his family apart?"

"You were the one that—"

"And the pen names!" Sunshine looked at the name badge on her lanyard sarcastically, "I want to write a story and have everyone know that I was the one that wrote it."

"Is that why you told Santana your real name?" Brittany still wasn't sure.

"I told her my real name because I was hoping you would realize that I'm trying to be a up front as possible with you both," she said seriously. "I'm not poaching your story. I'm here to do a favor for Rachel, so I can get something I want."

"I get it," Brittany nodded slowly. "I'm sorry that I assumed the worst."

"Don't worry about it," she shrugged tiredly, "everyone always does. No one in the office will talk to me about their work anymore."

"If it means anything," Brittany smiled softly, "I know you have your own motives, but if Quinn and Rachel can make this political stuff work, a lot of good people will benefit from it."

Of course, by people, she meant Santana.

"Yeah," Sunshine smiled a little, adjusting her shirt, it had gone askew in her outburst, "Santana Lopez seems like a nice woman. She really helped me out back there."

Brittany nodded, feeling a little proud on Santana's behalf, "Is there anything I can do?"

"We should collaborate sometime," Sunshine suggested, "I'm meeting Rachel at the end of the week. We could go over everything with her and make sure we're all on the same page."

"I'll be there."

Brittany was going to figure out exactly what page Rachel was on.

* * *

><p>"Here," Brittany grabbed the corner of the couch, "help me with this."<p>

"Help you do what, exactly?" Santana asked with a puzzled expression. Why were they rearranging her office?

"We're gonna flip the couch around," Brittany gestured with her hands, "so it's facing the window."

"And we want the couch to face the window because..?" Santana slipped out of her heels, and walked across her office. She wasn't sure of why they were doing it, but she was going to play along. As long as it was Brittany's idea, she would probably play along with anything.

"Because," Brittany smiled as Santana helped her navigate the couch so it was facing the window and about a foot away from the glass, "I want to eat my lunch in the sky."

"I don't get it."

"You will," she reassured her with a small grin. She took the takeout containers from her desk and ushered Santana to join her on the couch. "Come on."

Santana followed her directions, taking a takeout container and settling down next to the blonde. She tucked her legs under herself, adjusting her skirt so it laid properly over her thighs, grumbling, "I hate this skirt."

"It might be uncomfortable," Brittany glanced over at her, "but it looks great on you."

"Thanks Britt," Santana flushed.

"Do you get it now?" Brittany asked, looking back to the window.

Santana followed her gaze to the window. Sitting this close to a wall of glass, it was easy to forget that you were even in the office. Their eyes naturally focused past the window and on everything else in sight. Santana guessed that was what Brittany had planned. She really did have a great view here, maybe she had forgotten to appreciate it every once in a while.

"Yeah," she smiled softly, "I get it, B."

"Look, you can even see that park from here," Brittany used her fork to point down the street.

"Now that I think about it, it's actually really cool at night, when all the streetlights are on, and the windows in the buildings are lit," Santana remembered a few nights when she had been working too late and got to the point where she just had to walk away from her desk. She would usually come over to the window take a moment to wonder what she was doing with her life. She hadn't had one of those moments in a long time.

"You work late too often," Brittany laughed softly.

"I haven't in a while," Santana's eyebrows knitted as she thought about all her upcoming deadlines, "but I might have to start again."

"Your first day back hasn't been that bad, right?" Brittany spun her fork around.

"Maybe a little hectic," Santana agreed, "I feel like I'm playing catchup, but Kurt and Mike really held down the fort while I was gone."

Brittany frowned curiously, "Where is Kurt anyway?"

"Gave him the afternoon off."

"That was nice of you," Brittany praised, nudging their elbows together.

"He deserved it," Santana brushed it off, "I think Blaine's taking him to the theater tonight."

"I'm glad that you took some time off," Brittany smiled at her before taking another bite of food. "I really enjoyed getting away from Clockwork with you."

"Yeah, me too," Santana pushed some hair behind her ear. She wouldn't admit it, but last night, in bed and alone, she missed Brittany more than she knew how to deal with.

They finished the rest of their lunch in a companionable silence, enjoying the view and each others company. Santana stabbed her fork into the top of the styrofoam container before she set it aside, placing Brittany's next to it.

"Say, what are you doing tonight?"

"No plans," Brittany answered casually, hoping Santana would change that.

"I wanted to... maybe take you out," Santana shrugged like it was just an offhanded comment. Even after all this time together, Santana was still nervous to ask her out. It made her stomach tie up in knots and her hands sweaty. It wasn't that she thought Brittany might say no, more like she was anxiously excited to be able to spend more time with the blonde.

"What did you_ maybe_ have in mind?" Brittany teased, her fingers walked across the few inches of couch between them, crawling onto Santana's thigh, and down to her knee.

Santana licked her lips before continuing, "There's a place downtown that I'm fond of, and _maybe_ I think you would enjoy it too."

"What kind of establishment?" Brittany asked with a smile, squeezing Santana's knee in the way she knew tickled her, and sure enough Santana jumped a little, biting her lip to hide a grin.

She brushed Brittany's hand away playfully, "You'll just have to trust me."

* * *

><p>That was how Brittany ended up following Santana down a relatively creepy looking alley. She was sure someone would consider it a street, and there were a few other people walking along the sidewalk with them, but after passing the third liquor store, Brittany was prompted to ask, "Where are we going again?"<p>

Santana smiled, amused by her apprehension. She took Brittany's arm in hers and pointed to a building, "It's just up here."

"A closed record store?" Brittany was still confused, but Santana's closeness made her feel much better.

"Not quite," Santana chuckled, "it's under the closed record store."

"Oh," Brittany rolled her eyes, "it's _under_ the closed record store. How did I miss that?"

"I'm glad you brought your sense of humor."

There were a few people sitting on the steps of the record store, smoking with judgmental eyes. Santana lead her past them and to a staircase tucked away into the wall. Again, it was a little creepy. Brittany eyed the posters along the dingy brick walls and fluorescent sign that read, _Your Last Laugh._

"Because it's amateur stand up night."

"What?" Brittany was still looking at the posters listing amateur nights, professional events, and comedy tour dates. Santana paid their cover as Brittany finally figured it out, "Is this a comedy club?"

"Yes," Santana took Brittany's hand and held it out to the man with the stamp. "Thank you."

"Sure," he eyed Santana as he stamped her hand too. "Haven't seen you and your other blondie around lately. Good to have you back, sucks it's not poetry slam night."

"I know, right?" Santana gave him a smile that implied an inside joke and guided Brittany inside.

"You write poetry?"

"Oh god no," Santana laughed, looking around, she wanted a decent spot to sit. Her favorites were the small booths along the walls. "But Quinn and I used to come here all the time, we were kind or regulars."

"Why did he say it's too bad it's not poetry slam night then?" Brittany asked, watching Santana suck on her bottom lip and try to look confused. She was failing miserably.

"I don't know," she shrugged lamely, it was really hard to look innocent when she was happy to be here.

She missed this place, the dark wooden floors, grunge posters on the walls, discrepant lighting, and less than friendly serving staff at the bar in the back. She knew better though. As a general rule, the more tattoos and piercings they had, the more pleasant they were. Santana found a booth that suited her, it was conveniently out of the way but with a decent view of the small stage. She stood to one side, sweeping an arm towards it and smirking, "your seat, my lady."

"You're a goof," Brittany shoved her lightly before slipping into the booth, "and you're not answering my question."

"Okay, okay," Santana sat down next to her and held up in hands in surrender. "The guys around here know me and Quinn because we're pretty much the best hecklers in the joint."

Brittany's eyebrows furrowed, "Isn't heckling mean?"

"Well, by it's definition yeah," Santana blushed, "but that's not the point."

"How is that not the point?"

"The place is called, Your Last Laugh for a reason," Santana showed her the coaster with the club's name on it, "the audience is really tough here. They kick people off stage and everything. It's part of the gig."

"Why would you want to perform here then?" Brittany asked, genuinely confused.

"It's a challenge, if you can make it here, you should be able to make it anywhere. They have these nights called Slam the Slam," Santana explained, "where the the audience is like, encouraged to heckle. All the performers know it's going to happen, so if they get their feelings hurt, that's on them."

"Hm."

"I swear it was all in fun Britt," Santana started playing with the coaster and looking a little guilty.

"I'm playing with you, Santana," Brittany laughed lightly, "you're cute when you look all guilty, though."

Santana stared at her, unbelieving, "God, I thought you were like disappointed in me or something. That was even meaner than making fun of some of these idiots on stage."

Brittany smiled coyly, because she really did think it was kind of mean, "So are you not going to heckle anymore?"

Santana had to laugh, "What if they're really bad, Britt?"

Brittany bit her lip as if debating about it. Finally she said, "They have to be _really_ bad."

"Score," Santana kissed her cheek in a gesture of thanks, "and just to prove how nice I'm going to be all night, how about I get you an drink?"

Brittany nodded through her blush, trying to remember if Santana had ever kissed her in public before. The Latina didn't give her a chance to figure it out before she pulled out of the booth, "Be right back."

* * *

><p>"Is it wrong of me to want to heckle this guy's outfit?"<p>

Brittany pulled a face, "No, I'm sure Kurt would if he was here."

Santana raised one hand to her mouth, and because they were sitting so close together, Brittany could feel Santana's chest expand, reading herself to shout out something less than nice. Before she got the chance Brittany's elbow hit her ribs in a friendly nudge.

Santana deflated next to her, with a playfully confused look on her face, "What? I'm just trying to make Kurt proud."

"You're ridiculous," Brittany chuckled unable to keep the smile off her face, feeling Santana's hand slipped around her waist as she settled back in her seat.

"Nice pants, buddy," a woman called from a table across the room, "when's Labor Day?"

"Ugh, mine was so much better than that weak shit," Santana mumbled over her drink.

"Do people still play by the no white pants after Labor Day rule?" Brittany pondered out loud.

"I don't know," Santana shrugged, her fingers playing idly with a belt loop of Brittany's jeans, "we'll have to ask Kurt. I mean, they wouldn't even be that bad if he wasn't wearing a brown sport coat with it. He looks like a used car salesmen."

Brittany snorted, "He kinda does."

"I'm so distracted by his gaudy pants that I can't even appreciate his bad jokes," Santana frowned sarcastically, making Brittany bite back a laugh behind her hand.

"I can tell that you would be great at heckling," she admitted when she was in control of her giggles.

"It's an art," Santana gestured to the floor, "these guys are pretty lame. You can't just scream 'you suck' and call that heckling. Q and I can dish it out," Santana bragged with a pleased look in her eye. "One of the bartenders told us that people used to come just to see us make grown men cry."

Brittany tilted her head to ponder the matter, "I'm not sure if I should be proud or... ashamed of you."

"You should just laugh," Santana took another drink to hide her smirk, "because I made that up."

Brittany studied her for a moment, "I'm not sure you did."

"Okay," Santana adjusted her glasses in a bashful habit, because she wasn't supposed to be proud of this kind of thing, but she was, "so maybe I made a guy cry once, but Quinn was just as responsible, and it's not like he broke down in tears on the stage, he had enough dignity to wait until he was backstage. The manager actually came out and congratulated us, brought us a free round and everything."

"You two are quite the pair."

"Proudest day of our lives."

"I can't even imagine what you two got up to in your sorority."

Santana shook her head, "You don't want to know, B."

After a moment Brittany asked, "Do you have a thing for blondes?"

Santana nearly choked on her drink, "What?"

"Just a question," Brittany wanted to laugh, "I noticed that your best friend is blonde. Your favorite professor, the one with the most influence over your career, is blonde. Your current girlfriend is blonde."

Santana seemed to be just realizing that she was surrounded by blondes.

Brittany waited for the laughter around them to die down before she continued, "How many of your ex-girlfriends are blonde?"

Santana flushed, "Like, all of them."

"How does Tina fit in?" Brittany smiled at the embarrassed look on Santana's face.

"To be fair," Santana took a large dink of her beer, "she had blonde highlights at the time."

Brittany's laughter cut through the room before the comedian on stage delivered his punchline, making him stumble over his words. A few hecklers threw out remarks, and Santana wanted to join them but turned into Brittany instead.

"That's not funny," Santana mumbled into her ear so she could be heard.

"That you have a type?" Brittany smiled at the warm tickle of her breath. "It is to me, because I've never really had one."

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you if you've always dated both men and women," Santana's tone was genuinely curious as she looked into her drink; it was dangerously low.

"I've always gone both ways," Brittany licked her lips, a shadow of self-consciousness came over her face. "Is that a problem?"

Santana pulled her focus out of her drink to look at Brittany, her eyes running over the blonde's face. There was something in her voice when she had asked that.

Slowly, Santana made a guess, "People have a problem with that because, if you go both ways, then they have to worry about everyone you hang out with; not just boys, or not just girls."

"That's pretty much how it goes, yeah," Brittany gave a small half shrug, keeping her eyes on the man in the white pants.

Santana tightened her grip around Brittany's waist, leaning close to say, "You know I would have to be insane to have an issue with your sexuality after how great you've been to me about... everything."

"That's different," Brittany shook her head a little and their foreheads were so close that her bangs brushed Santana's. "People can't help it if they're the jealous type."

"But I would never assume that the woman who's shown me such a kind understanding," Santana brushed some of Brittany's hair behind her ear, wishing Brittany knew how much it meant to her that she was able to accept her history with Artie, "would ever be able to be so hurtful as to cheat on me."

"I wouldn't," Brittany said it because she wanted to make sure Santana knew it.

Santana's eyebrows knitted, "Someone's given you a really hard time about this."

"Jealous types are usually a deal breaker for me," Brittany nodded. "I'm a pretty honest person, so it kills me when people I care about doubt me like that."

Santana leaned forward and kissed her softly, "I'll keep that in mind... and it means a lot to me that you're so cool with Tina."

"Of course, she's a part of your life San," Brittany was still grateful that the woman was able to protect Santana from Clockwork in some small way, and be there for her when Artie attacked her, "I get that."

"Still, I'm thankful that I don't have to worry about it."

"Now," Brittany quirked a smile, "if she highlights her hair again, I might have to start keeping a closer eye on things."

Santana laughed, feeling her face warm with a blush, "Oh my god, please don't tell anyone about that. I don't think anyone's ever made the connection before. Quinn would give me hell."

Brittany kissed her cheek and promised, "Your secret is safe with me."

Santana knew that it was one secret of many, and she wasn't worried about any of them.

* * *

><p>"I had a great time tonight," Brittany swung their hands between them slightly.<p>

"I'm glad," Santana ran her thumb over Brittany's knuckles, glancing at the floor as she walked Brittany to her door, "because I was kind of trying to make up for the past week."

"What do you mean?" Brittany paused in front of her door, fishing her keys from her purse.

"There's been a lot going on and I..." Santana rubbed the back of her neck, "like I said, you've been really good about all of this Artie drama. I just want to show you that I appreciate it, Brittany."

"San," Brittany sighed softly, "you don't have to make anything up to me.

"I know," Santana mumbled, "but I get that this isn't easy on you. I know you're trying to not let it bother you because I've been so tore up about it, but it's really not that easy to bush it off."

Brittany leaned against her door and opened her arms, Santana nearly hesitated to walk into the embrace. She was so glad she did. Brittany was warm and loving and made everything better. Brittany sighed again, letting her head fall on Santana's shoulder, and Santana wrapped her arms around the blonde's waist.

"Not gonna lie, I could have done without seeing those photos," Brittany said quietly.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry that you had to find out that way," Santana breathed, willing herself to keep from getting too emotional.

Brittany turned her head slightly so she could kiss the brunette's shoulder, "Don't worry about it."

"I do, though."

"You worry too much."

"So you tell me," Santana chuckled softly.

"And I'm right," she pushed Santana away so she could kiss her, "and I had an amazing night tonight, and I'm not going to let any other drama get in the way of that."

"I still don't understand how you can just move on like that," Santana hugged her again, pressing her face against the blonde's neck.

"Sometimes it's all you can do, Santana."

They stayed hugging against a wall for a little while longer, until Brittany asked, "I know it's late, and we both have work tomorrow, but did you want to come in?"

Santana pulled away just enough to be able to kiss Brittany's cheek and grab the doorknob. After Brittany finished unlocking it, Santana opened the door and let Brittany walk in ahead of her.

"Hey Tubbs," Brittany greeted the cat that had been waiting on the other side of the threshold. "Have you been eavesdropping? We've talked about that."

Santana just smiled, shutting and locking the door behind her. Before she had the chance to turn around, Brittany's hands were on her shoulders. Santana's fingers, still on the latch of the deadbolt, squeezed the metal in an effort to keep herself still. Brittany leaned a closer, slowly sliding her hands down Santana's shoulders, then under her arms, and to her front. The brunette's breath caught in her throat as Brittany methodically undid each button on her jacket.

When that was finished, because Brittany took her time, one hand slipped under the material, exploring the soft cotton tee shirt over Santana's stomach, the other moved up her arm and covered the her hand over the deadbolt's latch.

"I think it's locked," Brittany whispered into her hair and Santana felt her heart beat in her chest. She twisted her hand so her palm met Brittany's and smiled when their fingers intertwined, it was short lived, because Brittany's finger's had other plans. They trailed back up Santana's arm and wrapped around the material of her jacket. "Let me get this for you."

Santana didn't even need to respond before the blonde was helping her out of the garment. When she was finally free from it, Santana spun on her heel so she could face her girlfriend. Brittany looked down at her with a warm smile and a playful look in her eye. She leaned forward, letting Santana meet her halfway so that they could kiss again.

Brittany pulled back, placing one last kiss on Santana's forehead, "Coffee?"

"Please," Santana followed her, noticing the same armchair that served as a coat rack. She glanced at the spot on the wall she had been pinned to the last time she was in this apartment and felt butterflies in her stomach.

"Quinn wants us all to go out," Santana wandered closer to Brittany, watching her play around in the kitchen to fix a pot of coffee.

"Us as in...?" Brittany smiled over her shoulder, knowing where Santana was going with this but wanting to make it hard for her.

"Her and Rachel," Santana settled herself onto a stool at the island, "and... you and me."

"To talk about the feature?" Brittany turned back to the coffee pot.

In all honesty, with everything she found out from Sunshine this morning, there was a lot they needed to talk about together. She wanted to tell Santana everything, it was really bothering her to keep it to herself, but she knew she needed to speak to Quinn and Rachel first. If there was a reason Quinn hadn't kept Santana in the loop, as her best friend, Brittany felt that Quinn should be given a chance to make it right herself.

"No, more like a..." Santana took a small breath and started drawing imaginary shapes on the counter top with her finger, "double date, of sorts."

Brittany laughed, turning around to lean against the counter and admire Santana's blush, "You don't like that idea?"

"Don't you think it's weird?" Santana glanced up from the counter, "I mean, Rachel's your boss."

"Rachel is my friend," Brittany clarified, quietly. This morning's events still nagging on her consciousness. Rachel was her friend, and there had to be a reason that she didn't tell Brittany about Sunshine investigating Clockwork. "She just happens to be my boss."

Santana quirked an eyebrow, "You knew her before you got the job?"

"Well, no," Brittany admitted, "I didn't actually meet her until... I think it was about four months after I was hired."

"How did you become friends then? Do editors-in-chiefs usually get to know their reporters that well?"

"I... um," Brittany turned to the cupboards, pulling two mugs out, "gave her a reason to talk to me."

"What does that mean?" Santana found the wording odd. "Like, getting in good with the boss, kind of thing?"

Brittany poured the coffee and fixed the creamer how she knew Santana liked it. She turned towards the island and slid into the stool next to Santana. "No, it wasn't brown-nosing or anything like that, actually it was the opposite, I was always getting into trouble. She's almost fired me about three times now."

Santana burst into laughter, finding the notion ridiculous and taking the mug from Brittany.

"I'm being serious," Brittany blew on her coffee to cool it with an amused smile.

"Whatever," Santana brushed her off, "but seriously about this _outing_, as Quinn likes to call it. I'm really not comfortable with it."

"Why not?" Brittany reached out and placed her hand over Santana's, "I mean, you just took me on a wonderful date, so I'm assuming that you're comfortable with me."

"Of course I'm comfortable with you," Santana arched her fingers so that they slipped between Brittany's.

"And Quinn's your best friend," Brittany leaned over and kissed the woman's shoulder lightly, "so you're comfortable with her too, right?"

"Kind of..." Santana mumbled softly, "we don't really talk about our relationships."

That made Brittany pause, "What do you mean?"

"Ever since we moved in together, after college," Santana explained, "we haven't talked about our relationships at all. You can't blame me for not wanting to hear about the jerks she dates."

"Have you been in a relationship since you graduated from college?"

Santana flushed, adjusting her glasses and saying, "Define, relationship."

"One night stands don't count," Brittany smirked into her shoulder.

"Then none. I've been too focused on my career," Santana shrugged the shoulder that Brittany wasn't leaning on. Brittany didn't say anything and in a moment Santana admitted, "Okay, that's a load of shit."

"I wasn't going to call you out on it," Brittany brought their hands up so she could kiss Santana's knuckles.

"Thanks," Santana laughed softly. "So I guess that explains why we don't talk about our relationships."

"Her boyfriends couldn't have been all that bad."

Santana stared into her coffee, "I don't think I'm ever going to accept that someone might be good enough for her. Nothing against Rachel or anything, but..."

"Is that another reason you don't want to double date?"

"Maybe," Santana didn't really know anymore. "That and... I really like this, Brittany," she gestured to them with a small waving motion, "this _us_."

Brittany understood what she was trying to say. Santana was a private kind of person. When something really mattered to her, she kept it close, secret, and safe. Santana wouldn't want to take something she shared with Brittany and have to flaunt it in front of anyone else. She'd rather not put herself in a position where she could feel judged or scrutinized.

"I like this too, Santana," Brittany said softly, "and we don't have to be this us anywhere else but when it's just you and me."

Santana fidgeted with her coffee mug and didn't say anything.

"We can play along with our friends without giving too much away."

"I know," she sighed softly, knowing she was being too sensitive.

"If nothing else," Brittany chuckled, "just turn on business mode like you did when we all first went out to eat together."

"I did not go into business mode," Santana scoffed, turning her head to hide the color on her cheeks.

"You almost broke my fingers, your handshake was so strong," Brittany teased.

Santana laughed through her blush, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your delicate writer's hands."

"Kiss it," Brittany held out her hand playfully, "make it better."

Santana didn't have to be told twice, bringing Brittany's hand to her mouth and kissing her palm with a gentle care. She didn't stop there, next was Brittany's wrist, then a few peppered kisses along her forearm. She would have continued her path up Brittany's arm if the blonde's hand didn't snake around her neck and pull their heads together. Santana smiled into the kiss, and could feel Brittany doing the same.

"All better?"

Brittany kissed the corner of her mouth, "All better."


	27. Chapter 27

AN: This is me updating from my car, sponging wifi off of a random city bank. Needless to say, technical difficulties have kept me from updating at my usual pace. Not sure when this problem will resolve. Hoping for the best. Thanks for reading.

* * *

><p>She knew it was late; or early, depending on how you wanted to look at it. When she came into a vague sense of consciousness, Brittany could tell that Santana was awake. She was being still and quiet, of course, not wanting to wake the blonde next to her. The only movement was her rhythmic breathing and the small brush of her thumb against the pad of her forefinger. Santana did it sometimes at work, when she was thinking over someone's presentation, or trying to think of a solution to a issue in the IT group. It was a thinking habit, as slow and methodical as it was contemplating.<p>

"What are you thinking about?"

Brittany's voice was scratchy from sleep, squirming closer to the brunette so she was flush against her side. Santana turned her head so she could kiss Brittany's forehead and whisper, "Nothing, go back to sleep."

"How long have you been awake?" Brittany ignored the suggestion and her denial. She could practically hear the gears turning in her head.

"Not long," Santana admitted. She wasn't really sure how long she had been awake, but she knew that it was as good an answer as any. "Lets go back to sleep."

"Tell me what you're thinking about," Brittany coaxed, "or make something up, I really just want to hear your voice."

Santana licked her lips, staring at the dark ceiling, "I was thinking about the convention... I have to do a big showcase."

"You've been working on it for a few weeks now," Brittany had seen her prepare for it. "You're going to be great."

"Yeah," Santana wished it was just the material that she was worried about. "I hate speaking in public."

"But you're so good at it," Brittany smiled into her shoulder. She actually loved watching Santana present at the conventions and was looking forward to seeing her reveal her work.

Santana let out a small laugh, "I'm constantly on the verge of a panic attack."

"You hide it well."

"I try really hard," Santana's thumb continued to circle her fingertip. "I have this nervous habit; I have to hold something behind my back, like a pen or something."

Brittany chuckled next to her, "I've noticed that."

"I've broken a few."

"Shit," Brittany squinted through the darkness at Santana's profile. "Have you always been nervous speaking in public?"

Santana's thumb paused. Brittany listened to her release a slow breath, and suddenly she was sitting up. Brittany blinked rapidly, confused about why she was getting out of bed. It was instinctual to throw her arm around Santana's waist to keep her from moving too far away.

"Where are you going?"

Santana leaned back down, kissing the woman softly, "I think I'm gonna head home, I want to get to the office early. You should go back to sleep, I'll see you later, okay?"

Brittany's grip tightened a little, she spared herself a glance at the clock on her nightstand, "Santana, it's four in the morning."

"And I still have to go home and shower and get ready for work," Santana didn't see the problem. "I can make it in by five thirty if I leave now."

"Um... no."

"No?" Santana wasn't sure if she was being serious or not.

"No," Brittany confirmed, as sternly as she could while yawning, "come back to bed."

"Britt, I have to—"

"San, I know you have a really busy schedule," she moved her grip up Santana's waist, trying to get enough leverage to pull her back into bed, "trust me, I've seen it, but you need some sort of sleep. We went to sleep like, only four hours ago."

"I've been laying in bed for the past two hours _not_ sleeping," Santana huffed quietly. "Why should I lay here doing nothing, when I can be not sleeping at the office and actually be productive?"

"Sleeping is productive."

"Not in my book," Santana chuckled, gently trying to pry Brittany's hand off her waist.

"Then I'll come with you."

"No, you should go back to sleep," Santana knew that Brittany had offered to go into the office early before, but she still felt guilty about the idea. Even now she felt guilty for wanting to leave.

"Why do I have to go back to sleep if you don't?" Brittany tugged Santana closer. "That's like, totally hypocritical."

"Because I said please?" Santana bit her lip. She really wanted to get into the office, there was honestly a lot she could be doing, a lot of nice distractions just waiting for her. Brittany sighed, she could tell Santana wanted to do this and it wasn't in her to keep her from it.

"Fine," Brittany let go of her girlfriend and rolled onto her stomach, crossing her arms under her pillow. Santana watched her for a moment, and now that she was free to leave, she felt like she shouldn't. Even with her eyes closed, Brittany could feel her hesitating. She found it kind of cute.

"Santana," she pulled a hand out from under her pillow to push the brunette's thigh lightly, "go do what you have to do, I'll see you when the sun comes up."

"This isn't like," Santana felt embarrassed for even thinking it, "some sort of crazy girlfriend test? Like, you're not going to be mad if I leave?"

Brittany snorted into her pillowcase and Santana could see the dimple on her cheek from a smile, "I wouldn't tell you to do something, then get mad at you when you do it. I'm not that crazy."

Santana still didn't move.

"Oh my goodness," Brittany's shoulder's shook with a subdued laughter. "San, I swear, I'm not going to be mad."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, but don't even think about staying late tonight. I'll kidnap your laptop and force you out of the building."

"Deal," Santana grinned softly.

Brittany listened to her shuffle around, getting dressed in the dark, after a moment the noise stopped. Santana stood in the bedroom, her eyes falling on the soft figure in the dark that she knew was Brittany. She moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed lightly. Even though she didn't move, and her eyes weren't open, Santana knew Brittany hadn't fallen asleep yet. Awake or not, she was beautiful. Long hair falling over her back, the curve of her shoulders. She ran her hand up Brittany's bicep before leaning down and kissing her bare shoulder.

"I'll see you in a bit."

"Santana," Brittany mumbled quietly, "if there's something bothering you, I don't think work is going to fix it."

Santana bit the inside of her cheek, knowing Brittany was right. She also knew that there was something other than work deadlines going on in her head. Santana was once again surprised at how patient Brittany could be. She wouldn't push, she just hoped that Santana would confide in her eventually.

"I love you."

Brittany smiled as Santana kissed her cheek, her hair tickling her back, "I love you too."

* * *

><p>After Santana had left, Brittany tried to go back to sleep for about another hour before the unshakeable emptiness of her bed finally caught up with her. She missed Santana. She found herself thinking about what the woman was doing. Was she in her office working on administrative details? In the lab going over the bugs in the display models? Maybe she was playing around with her big project, the one she didn't like talking about in front of anyone but Mike and Sam.<p>

With a disgruntled huff Brittany pulled herself out of bed shortly after five o'clock, if she hurried she could probably get to Clockwork without missing too much. She showered and dressed with a stiffness that came with being up well before dawn, she didn't like waking up this early. She wasn't the best morning person, and it didn't help that they hadn't gone to sleep at a respectable hour in the first place.

Finishing her hair, the way Santana seemed to like it best, Brittany slipped into a pair of heels and passed through her bedroom, looking around for her notebook. She her eyes at herself, remembering that it was downstairs on the coffee table, she hadn't had time to write last night. She did, however, spy something that was vaguely important.

Santana had left her glasses on the nightstand.

Brittany picked them up, turning them over in her hands for a moment. With a smirk, she slid them onto the top of her head. In another matter of minutes she was walking out of her apartment, bagel in hand, telling Lord Tubbington to behave in her absence. Getting to Clockwork wasn't the hard part, finding Santana was the real challenge. Where would she be? Brittany took the main elevator, because she wouldn't walk down that creepy hallway by herself, and stopped on the floor with Santana's favorite computer lab. Unfortunately, it was empty. As was the woman's office. Brittany wandered through the COG, heading over to the main lab.

She put one hand on the large push door and paused at Santana's voice.

"Did you get that same error code? I swear I'm working in circles."

"I did, I'm trying to troubleshoot it now."

Brittany poked her dead in the door, unwilling to be presumed as an eavesdropper. She found Santana at a workstation, a cup of coffee next to her. Brittany looked around for another person but didn't find anyone. She walked a little closer, hoping the clicks of her heels aginst the tile floor would let Santana know she had walked in. So far, the Latina was too wrapped up in her work and from this angle, Brittany could make out a woman on her computer screen.

Santana was in the middle of a webcam session with her old professor. Currious, and maybe a little prone to eacesdrop, Brittany paused at one of the empty work stations to watch them work.

"I think I got it," Holly's voice floated through the speakers, "reboot that sucker for me really quick."

"I hope this works," Santana sighed, her fingers working the keyboard quickly, "I can't handle another setback, my timeline has already been shot."

"You worry too much little lady," Holly chuckled, "your stress is seriously infecting the network and spewing out of my WiFi."

Santana snorted, "Shut up."

"And to think you got laid last night."

Brittany could almost see Santana's blush from across the lab.

"I would hate to see you on any other day," Holly continued, a teasing smile in her voice.

"Remind me to lie next time you ask why I wasn't online last night," Santana mumbled.

"I'm just messing with you Tana," Holly laughed.

"By the way," Santana was quick to get the topic back on their work, "I don't know what you did, but I'm not getting the error code any more, so it worked."

"I am a master of my craft."

"And so humble about it," Santana rolled her eyes, a hint of a smirk on her face.

"Says the girl who came to me for help."

"Eventually I'm going to learn all of your tricks," Santana flipped her bangs to the side, "and then we'll see who's the master."

"You should come back to UCLA," Holly said seriously, "it would be too easy for me to get you a job here. I could totally make it happen. Think about it, me and you, we could run this place."

Brittany watched Santana suck her bottom lip into her mouth, "I don't know Holls, you know I'm too stubborn to give up on Clockwork just yet."

"You're going to go down with that ship, girl."

"Probably," Santana shrugged. Clockwork wouldn't sink if she had anything to say about it. "It might be worth it, though."

"For your sake, I hope so."

"Plus, I have like," Santana hesitated, grasping for the right words, "a life here, or whatever."

"And by life," Holly chuckled, "you mean a tall blonde."

Santana ducked her head, "Or whatever."

Brittany knew this wasn't a conversation she was supposed to be listening to, and it was too easy to take a few soft steps backwards and open the door, just enough so she could swing it shut with a loud click. This time, Santana looked up, a small smile spreading over her face.

"Britt," Santana turned in her seat, glancing self-consciously at the professor on the webcam, "what are you doing here so early?"

"I couldn't go back to sleep," Brittany shrugged, speaking quietly as she walked over. She wasn't sure how much Santana would want Holly to hear. "I decided to see what you were up to."

"I'm just going over some stuff with Holly," Santana gestured to the screen where Holly was watching curiously.

"Santana, you'd better point me at that girl," Holly warned, from the camera's angle she couldn't see Brittany on her screen. "I want an introduction."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Santana grumbled, sending Brittany an apologetic look and holding out her hand. Brittany didn't hesitate to take it and Santana pulled her closer so she would be in the frame of Holly's webcam. "Holly, this is Brittany Pierce. Britt, this is Holly Holiday."

"It's nice to meet you," Brittany waved a little awkwardly with one hand, unsure of proper webcam edict, her other hand slipped across Santana's shoulders for a sense of comfort. She couldn't help but feel like this was actually a big deal. Holly Holiday was in what Brittany could figure, a very important person in Santana's life. "Santana talks about you all the time."

"She does?" Holly laughed, a pleased smile spreading over her face.

Santana shook her head sarcastically, "Only to say how boring your classes were, I actually slept through most of them."

Holly ignored her, "It's fantastic to finally put your pretty face with the name. Honestly, we were just talking about you."

"And the feature," Santana cut in before Holly could say anything else, "I was telling Holly how much this feature is going to help me out."

"Yes," Holly agreed dramatically, in a way that wasn't fooling anyone, "I can't wait to read it. Not going to beg, but a shout out would be appreciated, I mean," she smiled slyly, "I did teach her everything she knows."

"I've already submitted a draft for editing," Brittany squeezed Santana's hand, "and your name was mentioned a few times."

"Score," Holly snapped her fingers in celebration. Santana rolled her eyes to keep from laughing. "But hey, I'll let you two have some time together before work starts. Santana, your program looks great, kicks ass actually, but if you need anything else, don't be afraid to ring."

"Of course," Santana nodded, "and will you email me the steps on how you troubleshooted it? Just in case I run into something else like it."

"I thought you'd never ask," Holly waved one last time before signing off.

Santana closed out of the webcam application and looked up at Brittany, a soft guilt in her eyes, "I'm sorry for dragging you out of bed."

Brittany stepped away from Santana because the urge to kiss her was starting to overrule her rational mindset. She leaned against Santana's desk and glanced over the screens in front of her, "Don't worry about it, San. I promise it's not that big a deal, besides, its even earlier in California."

Santana snorted, "That woman doesn't sleep either."

Brittany wondered if that was where Santana got the habit.

"Are those my glasses?"

Brittany smiled, noticing Santana's eyes on the top of her head. She pulled them out of her hair and put them on, "No, I just got them, how do they look?"

Santana had to admit that she looked great in them. There was something about Brittany wearing her glasses with a sly smile, leaning against a computer desk, the light for the monitors catching her hair in the perfect way.

"Pretty hot, actually."

The blood rushed to her face before Brittany could try and play it cool, scratched her nose bashfully.

"I bet you can't see a thing in them," Santana mused, eying the blush on Brittany's face with a odd sense of pride.

She laughed, looking around for the first time, "I really can't. You are so blind."

"I know," Santana tried to refocus on her work, ignoring the way her contacts suddenly became scratchy, "everything past five feet might as well not even exist."

Brittany took off the glasses and set them next to Santana's tablet, "Then I'll just have to stay close."

* * *

><p>Brittany paused at the end of a hallway, she had been to Quinn's office a few times, but always with Santana. This time, while Santana was hating her life at the floor meeting, Brittany decided to use the opportunity to talk to Quinn about a few things. She just had to find her office first.<p>

"Excuse me ma'am?"

Brittany turned around, finding an older woman with kind eyes.

"Can I help you?" she smiled at Brittany, "I couldn't help but notice that you look a little lost."

"Oh, I am," Brittany laughed at herself, "I'm looking for Quinn Fabray's office."

"It's back that way," she pointed down the hall, "take the second right and it'll be the last on the left."

"I must have missed my turn," Brittany rubbed the back of her neck. Clockwork was a maze. "Thank you so much."

"Any time, dear. My name's Martha, and I work just on the other side of this hall if you need anything else," she continued on her way down the hall and Brittany started off with her new directions.

Quinn's office door was slightly ajar so she peeked in while she knocked. When she had moved the door enough that she could see the desk, she was very surprised at who she saw sitting there.

"Rachel?"

"Brittany!" Rachel's face lit up, and she stood from the desk where she had been using the computer. "Did Quinn let you know I was here?"

Rachel hugged her and Brittany hugged back stiffly, still confused, "Um... no, I came here looking for Quinn."

"Brittany, what's up?" Quinn walked in with a smile and two cups of coffee, handing one to Rachel. Her eyes glanced around, obviously looking for Santana. "Where's Santana?"

"The floor meeting," Brittany explained automatically.

"Oh, did you need something," Quinn looked a little confused too. She didn't see much of Brittany around Clockwork, and if she did Santana was always close by. "Or are you here to talk to Rachel?"

"I was wondering if you had a moment to talk," Brittany shook her head to readjust, now that Rachel was here it was that much easier to get the answers she needed. She wouldn't have to make the trip to her office this afternoon.

"Sure," Quinn looked slightly puzzled, and closed the door behind her.

"It's actually kind of strange that you're here, Rachel, because this involves you too," Brittany wondered naturally towards the window, comparing Quinn's view to Santana's.

"Is something wrong, Brittany?"

"Rachel," Brittany didn't look away from the window, "why is Sunshine Corazon at Clockwork?"

Rachel bit her lip, knowing she had been found out, "Britt—"

"I know what she does," Brittany turned to face Rachel, her boss, her friend. "I know she's the best undercover journalist you have, it was ridiculous to think that I wouldn't be able to recognize her."

"It was," she held up her hands, hoping to calm the blonde down, "Clockwork is your piece, Britt, I promise you that. I sent in Sunshine for an entirely different reason, she's not stealing this story from you."

"I know that," Brittany admitted softly. "I cornered her in a copy room yesterday and got the truth out of her."

Rachel and Quinn shared a glance.

"But please," Brittany gestured at them, her agitation rekindling itself, "give me your side of the story to make sure I have my facts straight."

"Quinn and I," Rachel ran her hand through her hair and sighed, "we sent in Sunshine as a… Plan B, of sorts."

"Just in case what?" Brittany needed to know if Rachel really thought they were going to cut the feature.

"There's been talk," Rachel lowered her voice to try and soften the blow, but there was no point, "that St. James is going to cut the feature."

Brittany was sure her heart stopped, even if Sunshine had already told her, it wasn't any better hearing it for a second time. She still didn't understand, "What?"

"Quinn had been getting this feeling for a while," she explained, "she came to me about it and we acted as soon as we could."

"How is having someone undercover at Clockwork going to save the feature?"

"It's not," Rachel admitted with a sympathetic frown.

Brittany took in a deep breath, "Why does he want to cut the feature? We're so close to the publish date."

"It's not that he wants to cut it," Quinn spoke up for the first time, "it's that he wants to use it as a bargaining chip against Santana."

Brittany didn't understand.

"He'll approve it," Rachel pushed on quietly, "if she edits the list of publications she's willing to work with, he wants to..."

Quinn finished for her, "He wants her to renegotiate her contract."

"I am so sorry, Brittany. I know how much this means to you."

It meant so much to her, but it meant even more to Santana.

"If the feature is published," Brittany sank into a chair in the corner of the office, "then she has to pose in some stupid magazine like a tramp, it'll totally defeat the purpose."

"We know."

"Is there any chance the political stuff Sunshine was telling me about is going to keep this from happening?" Brittany tried for some sort of hope.

"We're going to have to play it by ear," Quinn looked a little disappointed in herself, "but please trust me when I say we're doing the best we can."

Please trust her. Please trust the people that have been keeping them in the dark about the very destruction of a project nearly three months in the making. Brittany was slightly less than trusting at the moment, and little more than frustrated.

"Why haven't you told Santana?"

The question hung in the air and Quinn couldn't hold Brittany's eyes.

"Sunshine's been here for a month at least," Brittany asked, her voice a subtle stern quality. "How long have you been planning this?"

"It's not that easy," Quinn frowned. "She has too much on her plate already, with St. James breathing down her neck, another photo shoot coming up, and the expo."

"She would want to know," Brittany said it like it was obvious, and they all knew it was true. Brittany was already angry at herself from keeping this from Santana in the first place.

Quinn crossed her arms over her chest, "Not to mention last week she was in a basement drinking herself after that shit with Abrams."

They were using deceptively calm voices, the kind you used when you knew it wasn't in your best interest to insult the other person. It was tricky. Quinn was Brittany's boss's girlfriend, and Brittany was Quinn's best friend's girlfriend. It would be best to not offend each other, but nearly impossible when they were both trying to defend Santana in their own way.

"I was there," Brittany said steadily, "and yeah, she was a pretty messed up, but who wouldn't be in that situation?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed slightly, something about the fact that Brittany was there for Santana when she couldn't be rubbed her the wrong way, "You don't understand how much pressure she's already under, the idea that he wants to renegotiate her contract will send her over the edge. She's been waiting for this contract to expire since she signed it."

"She is so much stronger than you're giving her credit for," Brittany shook her head slowly. "You think you're protecting her, but you're just setting her up to get hurt. She deserves the chance to know what she's walking into."

"This is my job," Quinn took a small step forward, her voice breaking the polite disagreement plane, "to protect her, to play interference with that asshole in marketing, to make sure this place is bearable for her."

"And you've done such a great job, I can hardly tell she hates her life."

As soon as she said it, Brittany regretted it. Quinn looked like she had just been slapped.

"Brittany!" Rachel hissed, glancing between the two of them, not sure who to side with.

"I'm sorry," Brittany wasn't sure if it would mean a single thing, but she needed to say it, "I am so sorry, Quinn, I didn't mean that."

Quinn took in a shaky breath, her fists clenched at her sides, shoulders quaking slightly.

"Please," she hoped Quinn knew she was sincere, "I—Santana means the world to me, I'm just frustrated that I can't do more to help her. I'm so, so sorry. I found out yesterday and I've been stewing about why Rachel didn't tell me, and it's so hard to keep it from San—"

Quinn held up a hand and Brittany stopped talking immediately.

"I get it, you've put a lot of work into this feature, and you've gotten really close to Santana. It's... understandable that you would be upset," she seemed to be trying to convince herself of that so that they could put this behind them. Softly, Quinn sighed and said, "I get what it's like to be stuck in the position where all you can do is watch her get hurt."

"That's why we're trying to get rid of St. James," Rachel reminded her gently, "because he's the keystone. Every discreditable thing in this company can be traced back to him somehow."

"I still think that Santana has a right to know," Brittany mumbled.

"Why didn't you tell her when you saw Sunshine?" Rachel asked slowly.

"Because," Brittany's eyes fell to her hands in her lap, "I felt weird about being the one to let her know that her best friend isn't including her in some big espionage plot."

Quinn's head fell into her hands, "She's going to kill me."

"You're just trying to look out for her," Rachel reasoned softly.

"She's not going to understand that," Quinn rubbed the knuckle of her thumb against her eyebrow, "she's going to assume I kept it from her because I think she's too weak to handle it."

"She has been really stressed out," Brittany remembered this morning, "she's worried about the big presentations she has to do at the exhibition."

"She gives presentations like that all the time," Rachel quirked an eyebrow, glad that some of the tension had broken, "isn't she used to it by now?"

"She'll never get used to it," Quinn muttered under her breath.

Brittany got the idea that she wasn't supposed to hear that, so she kept her questions to herself.

"Have you thought about what might happen to Santana if Jesse finds out?"

Quinn glanced up at Brittany, who was watching her from under her bangs.

"I'm sure you know he's been blackmailing her," Brittany continued quietly, "I don't know what he has on her, unless it's what I found in the your basement, but I just hate to think that he might hurt her because we're trying to work against him."

Neither Quinn or Rachel had an answer for that one.

* * *

><p>Quinn took Santana out to lunch. She was going to come clean about everything and Brittany tried not to feel like she had forced Quinn's hand. Brittany waited patiently in Santana's office, talking to Kurt about the show Blaine had taken him to.<p>

"The lead was simply amazing," he gushed, "Harmony Gerber has a beautiful voice."

"She's a bitch in person," Brittany mumbled, her eyes never left the door, waiting for Santana to walk in.

"You've met her?" Kurt turned to her from his side of the couch.

"I told you before, Rachel dated a woman named Harmony," Brittany remembered the conversation from her first week at Clockwork. It seemed so long ago. "I didn't mention that it was Harmony Gerber because they didn't really end on the best of terms."

"Rachel Berry dated Harmony Gerber?" Kurt repeated, nearly dropping her phone.

"They were able to keep it out of the tabloids," Brittany continued, she didn't have the patients to humor him right now, she was too worried about Santana.

"Well I never," Kurt turned back to his phone, "Blaine is never going to believe me."

The door slipped over and Santana breezed in, going for her desk. She didn't even acknowledge the two other people in the room as she gathered her tablet and left the office once again. Kurt and Brittany sat in a short silence.

Kurt gave a low whistle. Brittany's heart sank.

"Someone's about to get fired," his eyes lit up playfully, "let's go watch."

Brittany didn't have much choice, he was already pulling her off the couch and onto the floor. Santana was in fact, reprimanding someone, but it wasn't someone Brittany would expect her to fire.

"Chang," Santana had pulled him to the side of the floor, giving them a little privacy but they were still close enough to her office for Brittany and Kurt to hear, "you know that's unacceptable. What's our policy?"

Mike took a steadying breath, "During public events we only work on our own secured network."

Santana pressed two fingers to her temple, trying to relieve a growing pressure, "So why can't you make that happen for our exhibition?"

"I'll figure it out," he nodded, turning to go take care of his task.

"Mike wait," Santana caught his attention before he could leave. "If there's no possible way we can manage it, I heard the place isn't really set up for this kind of event, I would prefer you set up a small mobile network so our presentation computers will still be secured."

"Alright," Mike's face seemed a little relieved, that was much easier to accomplish.

Santana sighed, feeling her anxiety tighten.

"Are you alright?"

She wasn't surprised to find Brittany standing just off to the side of her office, Kurt was wandering off to give them some space. Santana knew she needed to talk about it, "That woman, the one from yesterday, she's a reporter?"

"Investigatory journalist," Brittany clarified quietly, "she does a lot of undercover stuff. She was the one that exposed the mayor's mistress. That's why I was so surprised that she told you her real name."

"Hm," Santana shuffled the tablet in her hand, mindlessly looking over her to-do lists. To be sure, she asked, "And you didn't know about this?"

"No, not until yesterday," Brittany admitted. "I'm kind of upset too."

Santana kept her eyes on her tablet. Quinn wasn't just angling for Jesse's job, she was staging a corporate coup, and she didn't let Santana in on it. Logically, Santana knew that Quinn knew that, from her position, Santana was too vulnerable to be of much help. Brittany knew Santana felt slighted, she could see it in her face. Santana was trying to keep from feeling helpless, she could see that in her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me when you recognized her?"

"I thought it should be Quinn," Brittany shrugged, hoping Santana would understand "I didn't mean to keep it from you."

Santana looked around the floor, tucking her tablet under her arm, "She might not of liked you making her fess up, but I know Q think you did right by not calling her out. If I had found out that way I would have... said something really stupid."

Quinn had managed to explain her motivations about keeping it from Santana and she couldn't argue with them. She was a little stressed out.

"You should probably take their implied advice," Brittany suggested softly, "and keep your focus on the expo. Let Quinn play politics."

She knew they were right, the best thing to do would be to make sure she was in the best position possible if all of this took off, and to do that, this exhibition needed to go off without a hitch. Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her blazer and Santana pulled it out quickly.

It was a text from Brittany Pierce,_ "I love you."_

One side of Santana's lips quirked up into a shadow of a grin, she glanced over to the blonde who was still holding her phone and looking hopeful. She felt the tension break in her chest. The one thing Quinn hadn't taken to account was Brittany's ability to put her at ease, let her feel like things were going to be alright, and to make her smile.

Her reply was quick and sincere, _"More than you know."_


	28. Chapter 28

When her phone rang, Santana would have ignored it, if it had been anyone else.

"Brittany," she wasn't able to keep the smile out of her voice as she answered the call. Alone in her basement and elbow deep in her work, Santana couldn't think of a better interruption. "What's up?"

_"Hey,"_ Brittany sounded like she might be smiling too, _"nothing much, I was just wondering if you were going to dinner with Rachel and Quinn tonight."_

"Um," Santana's eyes shifted towards the ceiling of the basement, where she knew Quinn was upstairs somewhere, "not that I know of, Quinn never told me anything about it, why?"

_"Oh,"_ Brittany sighed, _"she probably hasn't gotten around to asking you, Rachel just texted me about getting us all together tonight."_

Santana heard the hesitation in her voice, "Do you not want to go?"

Brittany's pause spoke for her, and then she admitted, _"I'm still mad at her. It's just really hard for me to find out that not only did she know that the feature might be cut, but she was planning some sort of revenge for it and didn't even think to mention it to me."_

"I'm not very proud of Quinn at the moment either," Santana mumbled into the receiver, "but you and I both know that they thought they were being martyrs by keeping it from us."

_"And... I'm worried that Quinn still hates me."_

"She told me you two got into it in her office," Santana chuckled, "I would have loved to see that."

_"No,"_ Brittany snorted, _"it was a train wreck and I'm so embarrassed."_

"Britts," Santana spoke softly, "check it out. You shouldn't be embarrassed for having a backbone and saying what's on your mind. Honestly, you earned some brownie point's in Q's book by whatever you said, she wouldn't tell me anything, but I could tell it left an impression."

_"Dinner would still be really awkward."_

Santana laughed softly, finding the pout in Brittany's tone adorable, "We should still probably go. It's our turn to be martyrs and sit through dinner. I don't really want to make this easy on them, but they're our friends."

_"Yeah, you're right,"_ Brittany gave an exaggerated sigh that made Santana laugh again._ "Then I guess I'll see you there."_

"Now I'm actually looking forward to it," Santana smirked. She might even be tempted to have dinner with Jesse St. James if Brittany was going to be there. Might.

_"Hey, you haven't even been invited yet,"_ Brittany teased, and Santana could hear her shuffling around her apartment. She wondered what the blonde was getting up to in her loft. An image of her sitting at her desk, laptop and notebook in front of her, Lord Tubbington in her lap, ran through Santana's head and she wanted to be there with them.

"That's true," Santana glanced at the clock and wondered when Quinn planned on telling her about dinner plans. "Q's pushing her luck here."

_"Give her some time, she's probably still worried that you're mad at her."_

"Probably," Santana admitted quietly, she hadn't been in the best of moods after their lunch when Quinn came clean.

_"But hey, I have to text Rachel back to let her know I'll be there,"_ Brittany's voice mixed with the sound of a shower being turned on, _"so I'll see you when I get there."_

Santana blinked a few times, refocusing from the mental images of Brittany and the shower, "Yeah, alright, I um... I'll see you there."

_"I love you, Santana."_

Her stomach tumbled, because the words were still just as powerful as they had been the first time she heard them. Santana hoped it was the same for Brittany when she replied, "I love you too."

* * *

><p>"Have you finished thinking about it?"<p>

"I have a lot of things to think about, Quinn," Santana didn't even look up from her computer. She knew what Quinn was about to ask, but like she said, she wasn't going to make it very easy. "You're going to have to jog my memory."

Quinn moved down the final three steps and walked over to the woman, "You said you would think about going out with Rachel and Brittany."

"Yeah, I did," Santana continued typing, "and when I made a suggestion you shot me down, so forgive me for not putting a whole lot of effort into planning the thing."

"Santana, there's no way in hell that we're going to play a game of doubles at the racquetball court."

"Because you know Britts and I would kick your asses, and you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of your new girlfriend."

"Santana."

Santana rolled her eyes a little, "If you want to set up a dinner, I'll be there. I was fine the last time you roped me into dinner with them, I'll be fine this time."

"Good," Quinn glanced at her watch, "because you have two hours to get ready."

Santana was already saving her progress and standing up, "That's not short notice at all."

"Rachel wanted to do it tonight," Quinn seemed genuinely apologetic.

Santana shrugged like it was no big deal and they walked upstairs together. She knew it was actually a good idea to get this over with and made sure there were no hard feelings between any of them. They needed each other too much. Not to mention that none of the women wanted to be at odds with their friend's girlfriend. That was more important that the corporate espionage alliance crap.

It only took her one hour to get ready, her extra time was spent on her laptop in the living room, waiting for Quinn to come downstairs so that they could leave. While she thought she should have been, she wasn't working. Ever since she had accepted Brittany's friend request on Facebook, Santana had been taking regular breaks from her real life to browse through the woman's photo albums. She had a lot, and each one was more informative than the last.

Santana learned that Brittany's younger sister, who had been mentioned in passing, was still in college at Pennsylvania State. Santana wondered what she was majoring in and if it was similar to Brittany and her mother's interests in the creative arts. The Pierce sisters looked just like their mother, and all of them seemed to smile constantly when they were together. They corresponded often, Brittany's page was littered with comments from her family, and friends Santana had never met before. Her friends at _The Lead_ missed her, and couldn't wait for her to get back into the office again.

Santana dreaded that day.

When the feature was, or... wasn't, published, Brittany would have to go back to her usual job. She wouldn't have the liberty to spend an entire day with Santana on official business. The change was already happening, Brittany was supposed to spend tomorrow at an editing meeting with Rachel and had already warned Santana that she might not make it into Clockwork at all.

Santana tried not to get too worked up about it. It's not like their relationship was going to be over once Brittany left Clockwork. Still, she loved going to work and seeing Brittany. She loved having someone know exactly what she did every day, why she felt the way she did about her work, understand her passions for it and her frustrations about it. She loved the underlying sense of support Brittany's presence inspired.

"Please tell me you're not going to be thinking about work all night."

Quinn's voice brought her out of her cyberstalking, and she bit back a sarcastic comment. Santana reminded herself to be nice. Like she told Brittany; they needed to get over the dishonesty that went along with the Sunshine drama, Quinn was just trying to help. Santana gave her friend a once over as she stood from the couch, "You look nice."

"Thanks, you too," Quinn smiled, surprised by the compliment. She had expected Santana to hold onto her grudge for a little longer, but was thankful that it seemed to be pushed aside for at least tonight, "You're not taking your purse?"

"Nah, got everything important in my wallet," Santana patted the small billfold in her jacket pocket.

Quinn nodded and stated rummaging through her own purse, "Let me make sure I have one of your epipens, I don't know where we're going so I don't know if they're peanut allergy friendly. I reminded Rachel about it, though."

"You don't know where we're going?" Santana was actually startled. "That's not driving you insane?"

"Don't remind me," Quinn would have loved to Google the restaurant and it's menu, but Rachel had insisted on a surprise. "Alright, I have it, we can take off."

"I'm probably gonna have to teach Brittany how to work one of those," Santana thought out loud as they headed for the door.

"Couldn't hurt," Quinn spared her a wry smile, "I remember trying to read the instructions while you nearly passed out next to me."

Santana rolled her eyes, "I actively try to forget that moment in my life."

"Yeah, I don't blame you."

With only an address to go off of, the friends made their way to the establishment of Rachel's choice. As Santana stepped out of the cab, her first words were, "I'm so offended right now."

"Don't judge it just yet," Quinn bit her lip to keep from laughing. Santana hated Mexican restaurants. "It could be totally authentic."

"No, you're right," Santana looked from her friend to the building and back, "with a name like _El Rancho, _how could it not be?"

Quinn lost it, erupting in a fit of laughter, because her nerves about Santana's behavior at the truce dinner and horrible food selection was just too much for her. Santana watched her with a thin frown, she really didn't find it that funny.

"Please—I'm begging you," Quinn took in a deep breath to dismiss her giggles, "please don't be mean about this. Rachel was hoping to use dinner to..." she licked her lips, thinking of the right word, "smooth things over between you and Brittany, and us."

"Because you two got caught being conniving bitches, and didn't want to let your friends play along?" Santana crossed her arms over her chest, quirking a challenging eyebrow.

"Yes," Quinn was just barely able to keep from rolling her eyes, "that."

"You're forgetting that I'm here for Brittany," Santana shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, looking up and down the sidewalk so she wouldn't have to look at Quinn, "I'm not going to trash on her boss, that's just plain rude, and I'm not going to ruin the night just because you hurt my feelings."

The fact that she said it made it so much more real to Quinn, and she felt guilty all over again. Santana noticed her face fall.

"Q, I know you were trying to look out for me," Santana shrugged, " and I think the fact that I need someone to do that bugs me more than being left out of the loop. I'm sorry I'm taking it so hard, I'll get over it."

Quinn stepped closer, bumping their shoulders together, "I still feel bad."

"Well, stop it," Santana caught her eyes. "I'm ready for a drink and since everyone around me thinks I'm so chronically stressed, let's not turn tonight into a pity party."

"Alright," Quinn was glad they could put it behind them.

"That doesn't mean I'm not going to be sarcastic as fuck about your girl's choice here," she eyed the restaurant with a healthy bit of disdain.

"If you're going to be mean," Quinn sighed sarcastically, "be mean to me, or discreetly, I don't want Rachel thinking you hate her. She's so nervous that you're going to be crazy upset with us after all this crap, she's developed a complex."

Santana knew that Rachel should really be worried about Brittany's forgiveness, but didn't feel like it wasn't her place to say anything. They walked into the restaurant and Santana was quick to point out, "They have a large cartoon depiction of a Mexican jumping bean on the wall. If that doesn't say authentic, I don't know what does."

Not wanting to provoke her any further, Quinn just gave her a look that could have been interpreted as agreement.

"I thought she was vegan," Santana continued when Quinn didn't say anything. "What's so vegan about commercial nacho cheese?"

"I hardly think Rachel would suggest a restaurant that didn't serve _something_ vegan," Quinn mumbled under her breath before turning to the waiting host, "We're looking for our party, Rachel—"

"Miss Berry told me to expect you," he nodded and gestured for them to follow.

"Is she like a regular or something?" Santana shot Quinn a dubious look.

Santana followed the host to a booth in the back of the floor, neatly out of the way and kind of secluded. Santana approved of the placement. She didn't, however, like the fact that there was only one woman in the booth. Rachel stood as they walked up, hugging Quinn and kissing her cheek. Seeing Quinn and Rachel act like a couple made her feel awkward, and she wished Brittany was with her.

"I'm glad you guys could make it," Rachel smiled purposefully at Santana, still unsure if the Latina was harboring any ill feelings about her spy at Clockwork. "I know you're very busy Santana, I appreciate you taking a night off from working late to join us."

"It's no big deal," Santana met her eyes, trying to convey that she was here to be friendly, she was over the spy situation, and she just wanted to know, "Is Britt not here yet?"

"No," Rachel slid into one side of the booth and Quinn followed, "she just texted and said she would only be a few minutes longer. Stuck in traffic."

"I'm going to hang out in front and wait for her," Santana was happy for an excuse disappear. "Order me a drink, Q."

If they wanted to protest, Santana left before they could. She knew they would probably enjoy the moment to themselves as much as she wouldn't enjoy being the third wheel. She made her way out of the restaurant, being careful to keep her eyes out for the only reason she was even in this place.

Santana stepped onto the sidewalk with no sign of the blonde. At least it was a nice night out, the air crisp and as fresh as it can get in the city. A streetlight to her left flickered off and caught her attention. She eyed it for a moment, remembering when her father told her standing under a streetlight when it goes out was bad luck. It was an old superstition, and even as she told herself it was irrational, her eyes fell to the steady stream of people walking up and down the sidewalk, wondering who was cast in shadow at the right moment.

A particular figure caught her attention.

She squinted, taking a few steps towards the corner of the restaurant, where the building ended to form a small alcove between it and the travel center next door. There, leaning against the brick wall, the darkness of the alley was so thick, Brittany would have been completely unrecognizable if not for the glow of a cellphone on her face. The scene was nearly surreal, when Santana thought of Brittany, she thought about bright smiles and colorful scarves, definitely not rough brick walls, dark shadows, and grungy haze of... smoke?

Santana had never seen the woman smoke before.

She did a double take, just to be sure, but it was impossible to misinterpret the unmistakable action of bringing the object to her lips, the red glow on the end as she inhaled. Santana watched the smoke slowly tumble from her nose and the corner of her mouth that wasn't holding the butt as she used both hands to type something into her phone. Brittany slipped her phone into her pocket, and straightened a little, pushing a curl of blonde hair behind her ear, perhaps readying herself to go into the restaurant.

Santana started over just as she was taking another deep drag, the kind you took when you were about to finish your cigarette and go inside.

"This is some traffic jam."

Somewhere between the squeak of surprise and lungs full of smoke, Brittany lost her breath and started coughing. Santana bit her lip, feeling guilty about startling her into a coughing fit. "You alright?"

"Um yeah," Brittany coughed again, peering at Santana with squinting, watering eyes, "what are you doing out here?"

"I can ask you the same thing," Santana prompted quietly, "I didn't know you smoked."

Brittany didn't miss the subtle uncertainty in her voice. She wasn't sure how she felt about this new discovery. She didn't blame her at all, she had never found smoking to be very attractive, and for a lot of people it was a stern deal breaker.

"It's..." Brittany smiled as she caught her breath, trying to reassure her, "more of a hobby than a habit."

"I'm sure alcoholics say the same thing, you know, just a hobby," Santana watched her stub out the end on the wall, the sparks falling lazily to the ground.

Brittany's eyebrows twitched, entertained by her snark. "I take it you don't approve."

Santana pursed her lips to one side, scrunching her nose in an undecided expression, "It's... just an occasional thing?"

Brittany pushed off the wall, her eyes tilted to the sky, "Only once in a blue moon."

"What's the special occasion?" Santana's eyes were concerned and cautious.

"I... um, needed to relax a little," Brittany wandered out of the alleyway and closer to Santana, her hand twisting back and forth at the wrist in indecisive gesture, "I'm kinda… maybe… sorta still worried about how I'm going to act towards Rachel. I didn't want to go in until you got here, so I've been chilling out here."

The corners of Santana's lips quirked up in a smile that she was trying to hide, "That's hilarious, because I came out here to wait for you so I wouldn't have to sit in there with them."

"Twinsies," Brittany chuckled lowly, her hand wandering out, grasping a dark curl in her fingers. Santana blinked at her forwardness, sure they were on a random sidewalk, and it was doubtful that anyone in the area knew them, but it was still unexpected. "Are you still mad at Quinn?"

"No, we're over it," Santana let Brittany slowly twirl the lock of hair around her finger, her blue eyes watching herself do it in an amused fashion. "I'm just not really feeling that… sociable right now."

"Stressed out?"

Santana let out a short breath, "I swear, if one more person tells me I'm stressed out I'm going to kill somebody. The only reason I'm stressed is because everyone keeps telling me I am."

"So by that logic..." Brittany's lips tilted into a lopsided grin, "if I get everyone to tell you you're awesome, then you'll start to believe it?"

Santana's pulled a dismissive face, a brash contradiction to the bashful light in her eyes.

"That's not logic," Santana mumbled, not missing the way Brittany kept getting closer, but she wasn't about to step back.

"I would do it though," Brittany brought the end of the captured stand of hair and brushed it over her chin. "I would tell everyone."

"That I'm awesome?" Santana repeated skeptically.

Brittany leaned in close, the look in her eye deadly serious, whispering the words like it was the answer to the meaning of life, "The awesomest."

"Get away from me," Santana laughed warmly, pushing Brittany's shoulder playfully.

Brittany's face lit up at the sound of her laughter, warm and melodic. She caught the brunette by her wrist. "Let's go inside, I'm actually starving."

"You actually want to eat this shit?"

"Have you been here before?" Brittany asked and the look on Santana's face gave her the answer, "Oh hush, you haven't even seen the food yet."

"I've seen the fine decorations on the walls," Santana eyed them again as they walked in the front door, "and that's all I need to know."

"Rachel swears by their guacamole wraps," Brittany paused at the host's station, "Hey."

He glanced at her, wondering if Santana needed directions to their table again. "How can I help you, ma'am?"

"Can I get one of those?"

He followed her pointing finger to the stash of place mats and crayon boxes. He looked at Santana, unsure if the blonde was being serious or not.

Santana raised a single eyebrow in challenge, "How 'bout you give her the crayons, _esse_."

He did as he was told, and Brittany thanked him politely. Santana promptly threaded their arms together and escorted her blonde past the jumping bean and the display of sombreros. "Rachel's got a booth in the back."

Brittany giggled, rolling the paper place mats into a cylinder and swatted Santana's shoulder with it, "You're very intimidating, Miss Lopez."

Santana licked her lips, a bubbling swell of pride rising in her chest, "Only when crayons are involved."

"I thought you two had ditched us," Quinn said honestly as they walked up.

"You know how traffic can be, Q," Santana brushed it off, guiding Brittany into the booth first.

"I'm glad you made it, Brittany," Rachel's eyes passed between the latecomers, observing their interactions with a soft smile.

"Oh, you know, I was in the neighborhood," she was avoiding Rachel's eyes, and the tension between them was nearly unnoticeable. Brittany pulled a menu out of the rack on the wall and handed it to Santana. "Will you order for me?"

"What, because I'm Hispanic?"

Brittany snorted, elbowing her gently, "No, because I trust your judgment."

Santana glanced at her, but Brittany was already setting up her place mat and crayons. Her eyes skated to Rachel's and some awkward understanding passed between them silently. She ignored the smirk on Quinn's face as she opened the menu slowly, glancing over the items, "Any preferences?"

"Surprise me."

Santana accepted the challenge, although, she wasn't really impressed with the menu anyway. They fell into an easy conversation about a movie that had just come out. Quinn and Rachel had gone to see it the other day, Brittany was waiting for it to come out on BlueRay, and Santana had never heard of it before.

"That just says that you work too much," Brittany stacked the plastic bowls for complimentary tortilla chips on top of each other as soon as they became empty. She had eaten both bowls herself.

"I think it's a good thing, I have fewer distractions in my life," Santana explained conversationally, pushing the empty bowls to the edge of the table so the waiter could pick them up. "I have focus… but you're probably right. I can't remember the last time I've been in a movie theater."

Quinn was oddly impressed by Brittany's ability to say things like that with such a casual candor. Whenever she said something similar, Santana was quick to defend herself, and it was a rare moment for her to admit that she worked too hard in any way. Brittany was able to get her to do that so easily.

"You_ have_ to see this movie though," Brittany tapped a crayon on the table to emphasize her point. "I am like, so excited about it."

Santana picked up a stray crayon, it was blue, the wax paper smooth in her grip, "Then we'll watch it."

No one at the table missed the implication, when Santana finally crawled out of her basement, it would be because of Brittany.

"I'd like that," Brittany sent her a sideways glance before returning to her drawing.

* * *

><p>As suspected, Santana was sure she could cook better food than what was on her plate. She picked idly at her meal, calculating calories to the number of sessions with Blaine she had before the next set of promotional advertisements. To her right, Brittany was already finished with her food, she had cleaned her plate and for the life of her, Santana wasn't sure where she put it all.<p>

Brittany had been using her drawing as a placid excuse to keep her comments selective; adding her two cents in when she had something nice to say, but having an excuse to look busy when she didn't. Santana had realized what she was doing immediately, and forgot her own social grievances to try to divert attention as much as possible. She was actually having a little fun of it, because it was so obvious that Rachel was trying to get back into Brittany's good graces.

"Actually, I was just at that cute little pottery shop you're so fond of, Brittany," Rachel shifted the conversation from shopping to the ceramics store Brittany had taken Santana to.

"Really?" her eyes shifted from her place mat, peering up from beneath her bangs. "What for?"

"You talk about it so much," Rachel picked at a spot on the table, "I thought it would be worth looking into, and believe me, it was. I've already slotted a column on it in the Arts section, the piece should run next month."

"That's... actually really cool, Rachel," Brittany leaned back in her booth for the first time since she sat down and smiled at the pair across from her. "They could really use the publicity."

"They deserve it too."

Santana was sure Rachel had found her way back onto Brittany's good side. Rachel must have figured it out too because her eyes held a relieved quality that made Santana chuckle quietly.

"Speaking of," Brittany turned to Santana, her hand falling on the woman's thigh easily, "Trent brought me our pots, next time you come over you can pick yours up."

"How about you keep it," Santana suggested quietly, trying to ignore Brittany's hand and reaching for her drink, "I had planned on giving it to you when I was making it, anyway."

"Psh, no way," Brittany shook her head with a please blush on her face, "I'm not taking the fruits of your first pottery experience from you, stuff like that so important that I would almost suggest getting it framed."

A bubble of laughter threatened and Santana had to cough into her fist to keep from choking on her drink. The couple across from them did laugh, her words prompting Quinn to ask, "You made a pot?"

She caught her breath before answering, "Yeah, like with clay and one of the spinning table things."

The look on Quinn's face was a bemused as it was priceless and Santana scoffed, "What? I can't be creative?"

"When it comes to something that's not plugged into a wall?" she looked playfully contemplative for a second, "Um, no it wouldn't cross my mind."

"See that's where you're mistaken," Brittany shifted slightly closer to Santana, her hand gripping a hair tighter, "Santana picked up on the crafty thing pretty quickly. I was very proud."

Because her face was flaring into an blush, Santana had to say, "I totally kicked that pots ass."

"Owned it," Brittany agreed, a slow grin forming on her lips.

Santana's eyes narrowed, detecting sarcasm, "You're making fun of me."

"Just a bit," Brittany sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, trying to hide her smile.

"Again," Santana remembered an old argument, "not as subtle as you think you are."

"I wasn't really trying," her voice dropped to a volume only Santana could hear as her hand squeezed suggestively, "but if you want me to try something, I will."

Santana turned to the women across from her, effectively deviating conversation towards something other than an innuendo, "So, Rachel, have you ever played racquetball?"

If either of them knew she was changing the subject, they were kind enough to allow it gracefully.

* * *

><p>Santana was glad to escape the restaurant within the hour, satisfied that everyone had warm fuzzies towards each other by the end of it. She barely registered Quinn and Rachel bidding them good night, they were off to get a cup of coffee and Santana assumed go back to Rachel's place. Santana herself was too preoccupied with the alcove next to the building and the memory of finding Brittany in it.<p>

"Santana, say goodbye to your friends," Brittany nudged her shoulder, pulling her attention back to the people around her.

"What?" Santana blinked towards Quinn and Rachel's amused faces. "Oh, yeah, I had a nice time Rachel, thanks, and I'll see you tomorrow Q."

The women waved, turned down the sidewalk arm in arm. Santana watched them go.

"Dinner wasn't so bad," Brittany admitted. "Was it weird for you, to see Quinn with Rachel, like you thought it was going to be?"

Santana thought about it, and answered honestly, "No, I guess not, but they weren't exactly being cheesy together because Rachel was too busy trying to get you to talk to her."

An embarrassed expression spread over Brittany face as she ducked her head to hide it, mumbling, "Yeah, I was kind of being a bitch."

"I thought it was classic," Santana praised, slipping her arm around Brittany's waist and leading her down the sidewalk. She wasn't sure where she was going, in the opposite direction of their friends, yes, but she didn't have a real destination. Anywhere with Brittany would be fine.

"You were actually being very sociable," Brittany praised, "and I thought you weren't in the mood."

Santana shrugged, "Well, it seemed like you didn't really want to talk either so... I thought I would talk enough for the both of us."

"I appreciate it," Brittany mumbled into her dark hair, throwing an arm around Santana's shoulders as they kept walking. "So where are we headed?"

"I was thinking..." Santana licked her lips, "your place? I mean, I have to get my pot."

"How about..." Brittany glanced around the street, gauging the prospect of getting cab, "your place."

Santana quirked an eyebrow curiously, wondering Brittany's reasoning behind the preference.

"That way," she smiled down at Santana, "you don't have to worry about going back to your place in the morning, and can sleep for a whole half an hour longer before you rush off to work at five in the morning."

Santana was charmed by the thoughtfulness of the suggestion and her grip tightened around Brittany's waist, "Sounds like a plan. Even though I wont be looking forward to work nearly as much as I usually do..."

"What do you mean?" she had an idea, a hope, as to why.

"Because you're not going to be there," Santana confirmed in a blase tone, as if it didn't really bother her. The way she avoided Brittany's eyes told the blonde otherwise.

"If it means anything," Brittany kissed the top of her head, "I'm going to miss you too."

Even though Santana wished she hadn't been so obvious, she was glad that Brittany understood and felt the same way. Maybe the professional separation wont be such a bad thing. She could already see herself looking froward to visiting each other in their office buildings, sneaking out of work early to go to dinner, maybe even coming in late after a particularly good date night.

Santana was pretty sure she could look forward to all of that.

"It means everything."


	29. Chapter 29

AN: If you're still along for the ride, thank you. We're probably within ten chapters to the end. Thanks for all the support.

* * *

><p>"<em>All these people are idiots."<em>

Brittany was sure Santana hadn't meant that comment to be funny, in fact she probably meant it with every fiber of her being. Still, Brittany couldn't help the smile that came over her face. She dragged her thumb over the words on her phone, wishing that she was with the Latina and knew exactly why she felt that way. She glanced up, across the table Rachel had her nose buried in the third draft.

Technically, it wasn't her third draft, more like... third option. Brittany had written three versions of her story on Santana, each one with different takes on Clockwork as an employer and it's treatment of Santana. Rachel was torn between the second and third versions and Brittany was pretty sure they would end up writing a fourth version that melded the two together.

"Can I step out for a second?"

Rachel looked up, "Of course, Brittany."

"Did you want me to bring you a coffee on my way back?" Brittany offered as she stood from the conference table, making sure to take her notebook with her.

"That would be great, thank you."

Brittany slipped out of the conference room as her fingers were working the keys of her phone, _"Do you have time to talk about it?"_

Santana's answer came in the form of a phone call and Brittany answered happily, "Hey there."

_"Brittany, I have more confidence in your ability to set up the network interface for this exhibition than the people that work here."_

"I really don't think that I even know that that means," Brittany laughed, she had an idea, from the conversations she's heard around the COG, but nothing that warranted Santana's confidence in her.

"_That's besides the point,"_ Santana huffed. Brittany could hear the clacking of a keyboard in the background and knew she was either in the office of in her lab. _"I know you would try. That's all I need these people to do, fucking try. I'm so sick of turning away their half-assed excuses for a solution." _

"I would try," Brittany agreed, "for you I would try anything."

The faint pause of keyboard noise was enough to make Brittany picture Santana's blush.

"_I miss you."_

"I miss you too, Santana," Brittany slumped against the wall of stairwell. She had found this place that morning, in a quest to remind herself of the maintenance hall she shares with Santana. It was reclusive area, tucked into the corner of the building, occupied only by a hand full of employees. She was still amazed, and thankful, that her phone got a signal here.

"_How's the editing going?"_

"Oh, you know, long boring, full of grammar."

Santana chuckled on the other side on the line, _"When do I get to read this thing?"_

Brittany felt her stomach knot, "What?"

"_You're kidding right?"_

"No," Brittany rubbed her face. "I guess, I just never thought about that. It... makes me nervous."

Santana read her work? Brittany couldn't think of anything more daunting than that. She tried to remember the time when she had first met Santana, and was eager for her opinion of the piece she did on the convention. Now, it seemed too big, too personal, too risky. What if Santana doesn't like what she wrote? What if she shared too much? What if she got it all wrong?

"_Britt, I think I'm just as nervous about it as you are,"_ Santana admitted honestly, her voice a quiet reassurance, _"I really don't have to read it."_

"That's not it," Brittany tried to back peddle, "it's not that I don't want you to ready it. I would just be..."

"_Upset if I didn't like it?"_ Santana supplied with an educated guess.

"Totally heart broken," Brittany confirmed softly, feeling vulnerable by just thinking about it.

"_I'm entirely too certain that nothing like that is going to happen, because you're an amazing writer, Brittany. The best."_

"You're just saying that," Brittany mumbled through her blush.

"_Because it's true,"_ Santana said it like it was the final decision on the matter and it gave Brittany a little confidence. _"No one can tell me different."_

"I—" Brittany fell short when she heard Santana start taking to someone else in the room, her voice muffled but no less authoritative.

"_What do you mean you need an extension? I've already given you three."_

Who ever Santana was talking to couldn't be heard through the muffled, aspect of the phone call and Brittany assumed the phone was being pressed against the front of Santana's blazer.

"_What's today's date?"_

Brittany blinked.

"_So that means the exhibition is how many days away?"_

There was a pause.

"_How. Many. Days?"_

She wished she was there just to see Santana's face, and the man most certainly trembling in the wake of her stare.

"_You're fired."_

Scratch that, Brittany didn't want to be a part of that drama.

"_Don't even try me, Israel, I've given you too many second chances to prove that you're worth something to this company and you have yet to show me any redeeming evidence to that fact. You're fired, pack up your desk and get off my floor."_

Brittany waited patiently as Santana used her office phone to tell someone that they were now assigned to Jacob's projects.

"_Hey Britt?"_

"Yeah?"

"_I'm sorry about that,"_ Santana sounded truly regretful about making the blonde wait for her like that, _"I just needed to take care of some business."_

"Santana, trust me, I understand," Brittany glanced at her watch, "I should let you get back to it, I bet Rachel's wondering if I got lost on my way for coffee."

"_You have to bring her coffee?"_

"Have to?" Brittany repeated the question, "No, but I offered, yes. Why?"

Santana paused in a moment of embarrassed hesitation, _"I don't know, I guess I don't like the idea of you bringing anyone coffee. You're a journalist, not a gofer."_

"I used to bring you coffee all the time," Brittany pointed out, the edges of her mouth quirking into a grin, she understood exactly what Santana was trying to say.

"_Yeah, but that's different."_

"How so?"

"_I'm not your boss... and..."_

"And I like you," Brittany offered after Santana trailed off.

_"Right, that too."_

Brittany could almost hear the blush in her voice, "San, you're adorable, but I really have to get back to work, text me, okay?"

_"I will,"_ Santana promised.

After their brief goodbyes, Brittany pushed through the thick door of the stairwell and back into the hallway.

"There you are!"

Brittany nearly dropped her phone as Rachel's voice startled her. The brunette was careening down the hall at a faster than brisk pace and for a moment Brittany thought she was about to be fired herself.

"What are you doing in the stairs?" Rachel questioned, stepping close and hushing her voice. "Were you on the roof?"

"No, Rachel, I was just making a phone call," Brittany held up the device like it was evidence and looked over Rachel's frazzled appearance, "What happened?"

"Jesse St. James' office requested us for a meeting in about an hour," Rachel explained, looking at her own phone to double check the time and confirm that they were sure to be late.

"What does he want?" Brittany was dreading the answer. This was it. This was the meeting where the feature would be put on the line. By the end of the day she would know if she was really going to be a published journalist or not.

"They didn't say specifically," Rachel took Brittany by the arm and started moving them towards her office. "This doesn't feel right though, I called Quinn as soon as I got the message and she said she wasn't even told about it. Where you on the phone with Santana?"

"Yeah, she doesn't know either," Brittany was sure it would have come up if she did. "Is Quinn telling her?"

"She was on her way to Santana's office when we got off the phone," Rachel confirmed, closing the door to her own office behind them, jumping onto her computer, and pulling her office phone to her ear, "Hey, could you get me a copy of the original Clockwork contract, along with the timelines, the meeting dates. Thank you so much."

Brittany fell into the chair across from her and tried to fight the urge to vomit. A moment later Rachel's secretary walked in with all the documents organized in a neat little binder, just the way Rachel liked it.

"This is perfect, thank you," Rachel smiled and it was almost believable, her secretary didn't take offense, the air in the room was tense and she knew there was something important happening.

"Is there anything else I can get you Miss Berry?"

"Would you mind calling a cab for me? I have a very pressing meeting and I need to get there as quickly as possible."

"Right away, ma'am."

After Rachel had everything she needed, including a digital copy of Brittany's work, the one that was most likely going to be approved by Jesse St. James, they made the short trip to the Clockwork corporate office. Walking into the lobby had never felt so foreign to Brittany. Suddenly, the men in suits and the security lining the walls could have all been pawns for Jesse St. James and his evil motives, her eyes ran along the security cameras and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

"Follow me," this time it was Brittany taking Rachel's elbow as they approached the elevators. She took the puzzled brunette past them and towards the familiar escape of the maintenance hallway.

"Brittany what are we doing here?" Rachel asked, watching her friend dig through her purse, "We never checked in with the security people, I don't have a badge."

"I do," she pulled it out just as they were getting to the service elevator. Thankfully, the card was still active and she was able to punch in the code when the light blinked green. "I don't know why, but I think Jesse is trying to keep us from getting to Santana and Quinn so we wont have their support in this meeting. That's why he didn't tell them about it."

"Better safe than sorry, I suppose," Rachel didn't want to admit how nervous she was about this. She took the moment in the elevator to gather herself, remind herself that even if she was nervous, she was an incredible actress.

Brittany lead the way into, and through, the COG with a familiarity that impressed Rachel. More than a few people greeted her as she passed and Brittany returned their pleasantries in an effort to pretend that this was just another day at Clockwork, nothing horrible was about to happen, she was fine. Santana was fine. Everything was fine.

"Oh, thank goodness," Kurt burst into the main doors of the floor just as Brittany and Rachel made it to Santana's office, "they have security outside the elevators waiting to escort you to the conference room for the meeting, Santana's been trying to call you."

"I must have missed it," Brittany frowned, she didn't bother looking for the missed calls as Kurt opened the office door.

She found Quinn pacing near the windows, phone still to her ear, Santana was at her desk doing the same thing.

"Fuck, Britt," a wave of relief washed over Santana's face as she noticed the newcomers, she was on her feet before the door even had a chance to close. Professional or not, audience or not, she hugged Brittany because it was something she needed at the time. By the way Brittany clung her arms around Santana's shoulders, it was a good assumption that she needed it too. Without pulling away, Santana mumbled into Brittany's blouse, "Why didn't you pick up your phone?"

"I think I left it on Rachel's desk," Brittany admitted, her tone bordering on ashamed, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Santana coaxed gently, "I'm just glad that Jesse's goons didn't get you at the door."

"What's up with that?" Brittany pulled back, asking Santana and Quinn, whoever knew. "What's going on? Since when do we need to be escorted to the conference room?"

"Rachel is Sunshine still in the building?" Santana inquired seriously, and with one last squeeze of Brittany's arm she moved back to her desk to finish whatever kind of preparations she could for this meetings.

"No," Rachel glanced between Quinn and Santana, "I took her out the day Brittany confronted me about it. We had what we needed anyway, so there was no point in causing much more of a fuss."

"I don't think we've even _started_ to hear a fuss."

* * *

><p>Jesse St. James looked around the conference table; on his left sat Santana and Quinn, to his right, Rachel and Brittany. None of them looked particularly pleased to be there. The set up was hinting at ominous, the wall of windows that looked out onto the marketing floor had their blinds drawn tightly, Kurt had been asked to leave, there were complimentary water bottles set and waiting for each woman.<p>

"You ladies certainly have been getting to know each other, haven't you?"

"Yes," Rachel spoke amicably, ever the actress, "I think we've all become a great working team."

"Speaking of work," Santana cut in shortly, she was leaning forward in her seat, her elbows on the table, hands clasped in front of her face. If her posture didn't give away her agitation, the look in her eyes sure would. "I still have a lot of it, with the expo this month, so if we could just get to the point, that would be great."

Jesse met her eyes and Santana forced herself to keep his. She wouldn't look away, her pride depended on it.

"You're right, Miss Lopez," his tone was sickeningly sweet as he glanced to the laptop set up in front of him at the head of the table. "I just wanted to get everyone together and go over this little project, before we go any further in the matter."

"The final editing underway, a copy will be submitted to myself and Santana for approval in two days time," Quinn tapped a ballpoint pen against her palm methodically, "we plan on submitting it for publishing within the week."

"It should hit stands a in time to create a nice buzz for your exhibition," Rachel added, "as planned."

"I think _my_ final approval was also in that plan," he questioned as if he might even be wrong about it, "wasn't it?"

"I was under the impression that I would be taking control of this," Quinn said it nearly conversationally, but Santana could pick up on her threateningly possessive undertone, "since I'm already responsible for Santana's means of publicity."

"Miss Fabray, lets not get ahead of ourselves," he laughed softly, condescendingly, "you were hired to be Miss Lopez's keeper. You make sure she dolls up nice and you put her on display. You are not in charge of anything but keeping Miss Lopez in check, because she's more easily controlled by a woman."

The air in the room stilled. Brittany watched Santana's nostrils flair in a small show of barely contained rage, Quinn's pen had stopped against her skin.

"I'd hardly consider that accurate," Rachel was a little surprised at how quickly Jesse turned off his professional manner.

"Accurate," Jesse pulled a inquisitive face, "and what would you consider accurate? Miss Berry?"

No one liked where this was going. Brittany shifted in her chair, trying to catch Santana's eye, but the woman wouldn't look away from Jesse.

"Quinn Fabray," he spoke slowly, as a teacher would when reading a sentence aloud to kindergarteners, "is conspiring against me, for example," he looked at Quinn, "would you consider that accurate?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Quinn said evenly.

"Funny how you would say that, Quinn," he leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs regally, "seeing as you're the one that's trying to get me fired."

"It's not like you wouldn't deserve it," Santana glared from beside her friend. "Your corrupted ass should have been out of here years ago."

"Perhaps," a small smile came over his face, "but I wouldn't be where I am today if I let a little thing like ethics get in my way."

"Mr. St. James," Rachel started packing her things, "when you asked us to a meeting I didn't think it would involve petty mudslinging. Miss Pierce and I will be much more inclined to continue business with you in a more professional climate."

"Mudslinging?"

He laughed, the sound bouncing harshly around the room, each time more gritting than the next.

"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you Miss Berry?"

"I certainly would not," Rachel stood from her chair, and Brittany was almost prompted to do the same, only she didn't want to leave Santana in this room with him.

"And releasing details of Harmony Gerber's relations with..." Jesse watched Rachel freeze, "a _number_ of respectable Broadway producers, that's not mudslinging?"

"_The Lead_ has never published anything against Harmony or her reputation," Rachel's voice was very definitive, but her eyes gave her surprise away.

"No, your publication hasn't," Jesse acknowledged that as truth, "but that doesn't change the fact that your pillow talk with Harmony Gerber became the next big tabloid cover story shortly after your break up."

"St. James," Quinn's warning tone wasn't missed.

He continued without a care, "It's quite heartless to throw out someone's business like that."

"That's a blatant lie and bordering on slander, St. James," Quinn didn't know if it was true. She tried to ignore the flash of guilt in Rachel's eyes and the turning sensation in her stomach that told her it might be.

Rachel's voice hardened, "You have no proof that I was the one that leaked that information."

"I don't," Jesse shrugged, "but it is rather convenient timing, and since you are already so well versed in sleeping with producers for the chance to land a role, I thought that you would know exactly what to look for."

"How dare you," Quinn sat up in her chair, and if it weren't for Santana's hand on her forearm she would have been out of it.

"This is insane," Santana was fighting too keep herself from yelling, "you can't just dig around in people's lives like a depraved sicko. You can't just fuck with people like this."

"Oh, I think Miss Berry is the one fucking people," Jesse touched his laptop and the presentation screen at the far end of the conference room sprang to life. It was a casual photo, of a younger Rachel and an ungracefully older man. They were sitting close in a booth at a restaurant, his arm around her waist.

"Robert Palino," Jesse explained, "you auditioned for his budding musical before you broke your arm."

"How did you get that—"

"Funny what people will do for money after their shows flop and they're desperate," Jesse almost laughed, "Palino was happy to make a few bucks."

"I did not sleep with him for my part!" Rachel pointed from the picture to herself, "I earned it with my audition."

"I'm sure that's exactly what you did with Joseph, here too."

Another picture of Rachel and an older man appeared on the screen, it was another situation with an older gentleman that looked a little too much like a date.

"If I was sleeping with them for a spot in their show I would hardly expect them to have the decency to take me to dinner first," Rachel reasoned desperately, hating the fact that Quinn was listening to this. These photos, pictures she might have seen in tabloids years ago, were being skewed into something they weren't.

"Rachel, you don't have to defend yourself," Quinn spoke through her teeth, and was still only being grounded by Santana's hand.

"No, no," Jesse chuckled dryly, "don't defend yourself, I'm sure the tabloids will love to hear about how a failed Broadway actress has been so bitter about an ex-girlfriend's success that she set out to ruin her reputation. _The Lead's_ growing credibility would _be sure_ survive a hit like that. Not to mention how kindly your avid Broadway readers will respond to the truth about the owner of this magazine."

"What the hell is this about?" Rachel turned to Jesse sharply, "what's the reason behind all of this?"

"You sent a journalist into this company for the sole purpose of gathering dirt on me," Jesse smiled kindly, "little did you know, you were only digging your own grave. While you girls were getting to know each other, I was getting to know you."

"And where the fuck is your proof of that?" Santana asked brazenly.

"It's amazing what people will keep to themselves when the have incentive to do so," Jesse's beady eyes trained on Santana, the amused glint in them was disgusting. "Poor Jacob Ben Israel _was_ keeping an overheard conversation between Miss Pierce and Miss Corazon to himself, because he was worried that you would fire him if he didn't."

Santana's stomach bottomed out.

"Good thing you fired him anyway and he no longer had a reason to hold onto that juicy tidbit of information, but don't worry, you're not the only one throwing disgruntled former employees into the mix," he shifted his focus to Rachel and Brittany. "I received a curious email the other night, pertaining to Miss Pierce the legality of her employment at your publication, Miss Berry."

Santana's blood ran cold. The last thing she wanted was Brittany's business to be thrown out there like Rachel's had, "Brittany Pierce has absolutely nothing to do with the other journalist in Clockwork, she didn't know anything about it. I don't know what the fuck you're trying to pull."

"So she's completely innocent?" Jesse asked, amused at Santana's outburst.

Every muscle in Satnana's body tensed, he had something on her. Brittany seemed to know it was coming too, because she took a steadying breath and just waited. Santana knew there was nothing she could do short of destroying his laptop, but he was already reaching for it as she stood.

"Does this face look innocent to you?"

The next photo was a little more straight forward than a dinner scene that may have romantic intentions. It was an official identification photo of Brittany, holding a black and white sign reading, _ ID # 27343, Brittany S. Pierce, Chester County Police Department_, and very unflattering.

"Brittany!" Rachel brought the hand to her mouth in a dumbfounded manner as she sunk back into her chair. "Is that a... mugshot?"

The black and white quality didn't take away from the large cut on her bottom lip or the darkened bruise around her left eye. Santana's heart throbbed helplessly. She her fists clutched tightly at her sides, she wanted to take Quinn's pen out of her hand and stab it through Jesse St. James' eye socket.

"Shit," Brittany kept her eyes on the ceiling because she didn't want to see Rachel's or Santana's faces.

"By your surprise," Jesse chuckled, "I'm sure it's safe to assume you didn't know you had a felon working for you?"

"Actually, they brought it down to a misdemeanor," Brittany found her voice, impressing herself by keeping it level. "So get your facts right."

"I did notice that in your record," Jesse nodded, nearly genuinely impressed. "I found it surprising, considering the nature of the arrest. Why don't you tell the class what you were arrested for, Miss Pierce."

Santana was the one being held down this time, "That's none of your fucking business you fucking—"

"Possession of marijuana," Brittany met Jesse's eyes for the first time since she entered the room.

"With? Come on, you know there's more."

Brittany just stared at him, she had never know a human to be so incredibly vindictive. She knew he was going to say it if she didn't, so she might as well fess up to her sins, "With intent to distribute."

"_The Lead_ is quite the establishment," Jesse smiled at them, "harlots employing drug dealers."

Santana was muttering something in Spanish under her breath as Quinn pulled her slowly back into her seat.

"I was seventeen years old, you asshole," Brittany grumbled keeping her hands still to make sure she didn't flinch. She didn't want to give this guy the satisfaction of getting under her skin.

"You were twenty six years old when you _first_ failed a urinalysis at _The Lead_," Jesse shrugged tapping his shoulders and clicked to the next photo. It was a digital copy of the drug screening results that were sent to the company after a testing.

"That's a confidential document," Rachel looked furious. "How did you get that?"

"Like I said, it was emailed to me by an employee you fired recently, can't recall his name, but I'm sure you can. I've always found that people with habits such as this one run out of luck eventually, so I looked into Miss Pierce's criminal record and sure enough..."

"So what do you want?" Quinn muttered. Her eyes narrowed and the pen in her hand straining under her grip. "Do you want a copy of the feature? Is that what this is? A way for you to remind us that you call the shots? Are you going to sit here and embarrassing us before you scratch the whole thing? Well congratulations, we all know you wear big boy pants."

"Big boy pants..." Jesse considered the words slowly, "what an... oddly _maternal_ thing to say."

Quinn's hand, still on Santana's arm, grip tightened tenfold. Santana pointed threateningly across the table at him, "I swear to god—"

The next picture on the screen wasn't shocking at all. A blonde and beautiful little girl, sitting on a bench in a park, all dressed up in her softball uniform and looking mighty proud of herself.

"Take it off the screen," Santana hit her palm onto the table surface with a harsh slap, "take it off right now!

Quinn could feel three pairs of eyes staring into her skull, but all she could see was her daughter's face on the screen. A cold sense of dread filled her body, and Quinn was barely able to keep her voice from shaking when she asked, "How did you get a photo of her?"

"This photo is actually a matter of public record, published in a local newspaper about the spring little league playoffs," Jesse explained casually. "Her name on your life insurance policy was the connecting factor."

Santana took a sharp breath through her nose, "That's a twelve year old child and you have no rights to that picture you sick pervert."

"Twelve years old, so that must mean you were... how old, when you had her?"

Everyone could do the math in their head, Quinn had been sixteen years old when the child on the screen was born.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel's soft voice floated through the conference room and Quinn wished she could crawl into a hole. To maintain any sort of dignity she had against St. James, she threw on her coldest mindset, the only one that knew how close she was to breaking down was best friend, who was sure to have a bruise on her forearm for how tightly she was gripping it.

"So I got knocked up in high school," Quinn was waiting for the punchline, "you can't ruin my career over that."

"Your career, probably not," Jesse shrugged like it was no big deal, "but I could probably ruin your summer plans."

Quinn's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, unsure of his meaning.

"Isn't it true that ever summer you act as a counselor at a youth ministries camp in Vermont?" Jesse pulled up another photo, Quinn with a gathering of teenage girls in camp tee shirts. She knew that photo had been posted on the camp's informational website. "I would hardly expect such a devout Christian group to welcome you back with open arms if any of them became aware of this smudge on your sterling reputation."

"That's bullshit," Quinn scoffed, "they don't care about my past, only about the work I do with the girls now."

"Then you wouldn't mind me bringing this to their attention now would you," Jesse called her bluff. "It's just hard for me to think that a organization with such a strong values on celibacy would favor someone like yourself."

Quinn's jaw tightened, even if her fellow counselors would be able to overlook that point in her life, it didn't guarantee that everyone in the organization, the predominantly conservative owners of the camp would see it the same way.

Santana started standing up again, "I'm going to the fucking ethics board right now getting your ass fired. This is ridiculous, St. James, fucking ridiculous."

"Ah, _ethics_," Jesse tapped his laptop again, "Miss Lopez, I've been protecting you from the board of ethics ever since your first year at Clockwork."

She saw it appear on the projector. A copy of the sexual harassment complaint that had been filed _against_ her. It made her skin crawl, and she looked at Brittany for a brief moment, only long enough to see the complete disbelief on her features.

Turning slowly to her tormentor, Santana growled her only hope at a defense, "That was entrapment and you know it."

"I do," he nodded happily, clasping his hands together sarcastically, "in fact, I paid her to flirt her way into your heart. All I had to do was sit back and wait for you to make a move."

"You _what?_"

She had always thought it was entrapment, she had always hoped it was entrapment so she wouldn't have been responsible for something like that, she had told herself it was entrapment so she could sleep better at night. Never, had he come out and admitted it though.

Of course, it made sense, by the way Jesse had swooped in and gave her the perfect way to make it all go away, there was no way she would have been able to keep her recent promotion to Head of IT if that had got out. The acknowledgment of his part in manipulating her emotions to gain the upper hand on her career was just as infuriating as her situation with Artie. An incredibly hot swell of rage rushed through her.

"It did take a little longer than I expected, and countless times she came back to me telling me all about how you were so respectful, so intent on keeping things professional, so focused on your career—"

"Shut up."

She was sure her body was shaking. She was so very sick of being manipulated, trapped, deceived. Everything in her life was one dirty little secret after another and she's had enough of it.

"Then of course," Jesse snapped his fingers as if he just remembered the best part, "I suspect the reason you weren't so willing to be in a relationship was because you had just been publicly humiliated at UCLA, and you ran off to Berkeley with you tail between your legs, didn't you?"

Jesse gave Santana a pitting smile that made her want to throw up.

"You don't know shit about it—"

"I know this," the mirth in his eyes was devilish as he touched his laptop one last time.

Santana didn't need to see the screen, or hear Rachel's shocked outcry, or Quinn's pen finally snap, to know what was on the screen. She wished Brittany wasn't being subjected to it a second time.

"With this, and the sexual harassment charge," his voice lost the condescending, sickeningly, sweet tone he had been pushing out through this whole thing. He wasn't playing around anymore. He was being ruthless, "I will destroy any chance of you getting a job anywhere in this country. And making it on your own? Please. I can see the gears turn in your head sometimes, Santana, the dreams whisper behind your eyes. You wish you could make it on your own, maybe, be your own boss? But honestly, what person in their right mind would invest in Clockwork's sloppy seconds? You're just a worn out showgirl, nothing but a pretty face."

Santana took a deep, ominous breath. Brittany watched her shoulder's square, and her eyes narrow.

"You know what Jesse?" she took a step back towards her seat. "You're right. I have a pretty face, and in this pretty little head of mine, I have a brain that I'm _pretty sure_, works at two times the capacity yours does. Now I'm not trying to say you're an idiot, because it takes some kind of skill to be as conniving and heartless as you are, but there are a few things you forgot to factor into all of this."

"What's that?" he leaned forward in his chair, darkly curious.

"First," she sat I her chair and picked up her forgotten tablet, flipping over the cover easily, "is that Rachel's mole, dug up a few things about you."

He rose his eyebrows in question, clasping his fingers together to hide his mouth behind his hands.

"Let's just see what we got here," she worked quickly, overriding his control of the projection display, and soon the image of her and Artie disappeared and was replaced with more digital copies of scanned documents, "do you know what these are?"

Jesse didn't answer, his eyes squinting to make out the tiny words on the screen.

"They're official travel documents, vouchers, rental car statements," Santana flipped through the pages, starting slowly then speeding up to show just how many there were. "The odd part is," she paused, turning in her chair to give Jesse a sarcastic frown and a taste of his own condescending attitude, "None of them are authorized."

"That's a mistake—"

"You cited that you were in Miami for a marketing conference with leading executives in our field yet, there was no venue of the sort that weekend. And in Chicago, three night stay in a ritzy suite for an advertising workshop that never happened."

Jesse kept quiet, watching the pages flip, the numbers add up.

Santana kept scrolling, "Las Vegas, a week long seminar on managing marketing techniques for directors and executives. Never fucking happened."

"I've been taking advantage of the company travel plan," Jesse's fists hit the table with a dull thud. "I have so many of the higher executives wrapped around my fingers that I couldn't even _imagine_ anything coming from this."

She stopped, keeping her eyes on her tablet, "I know."

"So you have nothing."

Quinn, Rachel, and Brittany all slumped simultaneously in their seats.

"That's where you're wrong again," Santana lifted her eyes to meet his, "the second way you slipped up—you underestimated my talents with a computer."

It was with great pleasure that she watched a bead of sweat roll down his forehead.

"At first I was pissed," Santana admitted, "you're a manipulating dog that got to ride around for free on the company dime, taking nice vacations while the rest of us worked ourselves to the bone to keep this company in the running as a market competitor."

Jesse watched Santana's finger's ran along her tablet's screen, hesitating but for a moment, "Then I thought to myself, where is he going all the time? Surely traveling alone isn't that much fun?"

He paled as his hands turned red from clenching them so tightly.

"But, of course," she finally pressed in the final command and the next picture on the screen was just as scandalous as her own, "you weren't alone, were you? Each city was a different hook up, and look, it seems that _we both_ suck cock."

"That's disgusting," Quinn mumbled into the back of her hand. The women across for her gave curt nods and looked away to keep the image from scaring into their memory forever.

"Good thing everyone just loves to take pictures on their vacations," Santana mused dryly. "So, let me think about what might happen if this starts circling around that stingy old boy's club you have going with the executives."

Inside she hated what she was doing. Even the _threat_ of using a man's sexual orientation against him was disgusting in her book, and by his green pallor, Jesse was no where near ready to come out of the closet.

"You wouldn't—"

"I wouldn't," Santana admitted coldly. "Nothing about this sits in me the right way. It's fucking vile and I hate even thinking about how I hacked into _your_ fucking computer and rummaged through your _personal_ files, photos, and videos, to find something I can use against you. I find this more demeaning to my character than sucking off that asshole, because at least then I was the fucking victim."

"Then why are you doing this?" Jesse's voice shook, "if you're so much better than it?"

"Because you don't want to play nice," Santana took the picture off the screen, "and I'm sick of playing all together."

He stared at her, unsure of what was going to happen next.

"You're going to destroy all the shit you have on the women in this room," Santana stood from her seat, marching sternly up to the department head. "Because if you don't, you're going down with us."

"How can I trust you?"

"You can't," Santana told him flatly, "but you can trust that I'm not going to rest until I've scoured every inch of data on any computer you've ever hooked up to the internet, and if I find... _a fucking trace..."_

Jesse shook his head, eyes falling to the table top.

"And we're running the feature with your approval or not."

He nodded this time.

"And I'm _done_ being IT Barbie."

Santana turned on her heel, scooping up her tablet, and grabbing a stunned Quinn's arm to pull her out of the chair. The action was enough to prompt Brittany and Rachel to do the same. Together they left the conference room, none of them walking with a more dignified stride than Santana.


	30. Chapter 30

"Chang."

The people on the floor collectively flinched, still wary about what happened to Jacob this morning, and Mike nearly hesitated to rush across the floor to join Santana at the door of her office. Her first priority was to get the women in the room so she was punching in her security code as she said, "I need you to do something for me."

When the door opened and the rest of the women disappeared into the sanctuary that was her office, Santana finally turned to face him. If he was surprised by the misting, but present, traces of tears in her eyes, he didn't let it show, nor did he comment on it.

He just asked, "How can I help?"

"I need..." Santana heard the deeper meaning to his words. Business aside, Mike would be there for her if he could, and that meant more to her than she realized. "I need you... to be in charge for the rest of the day. Make sure Thompson is getting Israel's projects back on track and the network—please, tell me you have made some progress on that network."

"We have," Mike assured her, "we're getting it all worked out right now. I have this covered Santana, I know what needs to be done."

It was such a testament to how much he cared by knowing enough to not ask if she was okay, he knew she wouldn't want him to draw attention to just how upset she really was. Santana glanced from him to the floor, then nodded. She could trust Mike.

"Thanks, I'll be in here if you need anything, but I would prefer that you... didn't."

"I understand," he made to go back to work but Santana's voice stopped him.

"And Mike?" she watched him turn around and look at her, waiting intently for direction. "I was thinking... I had a photo shoot scheduled for later this week, but I'm not really feeling up for it. Did you want to maybe sub in for me?"

The way his mouth fell open slightly inspired a small snort of laughter. It was a welcome feeling after the trauma she and the rest of the girls had been subjected to with St. James. She needed this small blip of humor before she was reminded of what her life was really all about, drama.

"Give it a thought," she tossed over her shoulder as she started reentering her security code to open the office door, "I think you would love the photographer."

"I feel like I'm in shock," Rachel pressed her hands against her face. Her skin was clammy but her cheeks were still so hot. She had never been that humiliated. How the hell did St. James know so much? Who else could have connected the dots? Was Quinn still willing to be with her after she was exposed as a vindictive harpy?

And did Quinn believe that she had slept with those men?

"Welcome to my world," Santana breezed by her and to her desk where Quinn was already opening the bottom drawer. There was a clink of glass and before she even reached her seat, Quinn was handing her a glass of dark, just in case, alcohol.

"Thanks," Santana brought the glass to her lips and moved over, "here, take my chair."

Quinn didn't need to be convinced. She sank into Santana's plush office chair, keeping her eyes focused on the windows and not acknowledging anyone else in the room. Santana knew to give her a moment to herself; she hoped her desk would give Quinn the same sense of protection it gave her.

Quinn's oldest, deepest, wound had been reopened in the most inconvenient way. In front of her friends, her girlfriend, and by someone she absolutely detested. Santana wanted to hug her, and maybe sometime tonight, she would find Quinn with her defenses down and she'll be able to be there for her. Right now, however, Quinn was in lock down and Santana was going to give her the space she needed.

"You two want some?" Santana offered because she thought this would go a little better if everyone would just relax. They weren't in the kill zone anymore, they needed to take a moment and just breathe. They needed to keep from turning their frustration onto each other.

"No thanks," Brittany was walking across the office to her desk.

It was a kind gesture that Santana hadn't taken it out yet, even if she wasn't going to be at Clockwork nearly as much anymore. She wondered briefly if Santana was hesitant to take it out because it would finalize the end of their time working together. She had such a great time working here.

Brittany ran a finger over the smooth surface, Gathering strength from the dark wood, the memories she's gathered here, "I'm not a fan of the strong stuff."

"Maybe if it was bong she would be interested," Rachel bit off, walking towards the couch but having too much gathered tension to bother sitting down.

"Really, Rachel?" Brittany spun on her heel to face her friend, or her boss, she wasn't sure who Rachel wanted to be at the moment. "_Really_?"

Rachel threw her hands into the air, letting out an aggravated huff, "I'm sorry, Brittany, but you have to explain the arrest. When you failed your first urinalysis, you told me you only did drugs in a recreational sense. I had no idea that you sold them, or that you had a criminal record."

Santana's eyes shifted between them wearily, unsure if it was her place to get involved. Rachel was still Brittany's boss. Brittany was decidedly her girlfriend. She took another drink, her hand falling on Quinn's shoulder for a small sense of comfort. She did know that it wasn't the best time to be fighting right now. They were all so stung out, worried about what each of them was thinking, how they were reacting to the new found revelations.

"I don't sell drugs," Brittany corrected her shortly crossing over her chest, leaning back against her desk. She couldn't believe this, Rachel was not about to have this conversation right now. Right here. In front of Santana.

Rachel moved forward to stand in front of her, fully ready to have this conversation, "How can I take you seriously after that? After that _mugshot,_ Brittany?"

"You need to trust me, because we're friends," Brittany was too angry to look hurt, but she felt it. "I've never lied to you about any of this."

"You never listed a prior criminal record," Rachel took a small step closer, "I checked when you first failed a drug test."

"My record was expunged after I finished my community service," Brittany spoke clearly, a slip of sarcasm tracing into her tone. She wasn't in the mood for another round of twenty questions. She didn't need to be kicked when she was down. "Therefore, I wasn't legally obligated to cite it on the application."

"Well, you're still _obligated_ to comply with company policy requiring full cooperation when a urinalysis is requested," Rachel's eyes gleamed with a challenging air, "I would love to see if you could pass a test tomorrow."

Santana felt her jaw set, Brittany had just been threatened and now it was unquestionably her place to step in, "Look here, Berry."

The women turned towards Santana making her way around her desk. Brittany watched her stalk towards them, her hair billowing softly as she took long confident strides, a determined look in her eyes.

"I'm not going to tell you how to be Brittany's boss, that's your deal," Santana put herself next to Brittany, staring the editor down with a hard look, nearly the same intensity as the one she gave Jesse St. James. "But I am going to tell you that it's mighty fucking rude to berate her right now after we all just got put on blast like that. So if you want to revisit the issue in the office tomorrow, when you're a little calmer, it would be pretty professional of you."

"Like anyone in this company knows the first thing about being professional," Rachel scoffed, "the professional thing to do would to stop covering for a pothead."

"Tell me how you really feel," Brittany grumbled.

"Oh, so I suppose that this is you being her charitable savior," Santana tilted her head sarcastically, "_allowing_ her to keep her career."

"As a matter of fact," Rachel was almost prompted to draw up on her toes so she could squarely look into Santana's eyes, "I think I have been quite understanding, and she should be grateful that I've been protecting her this long."

"If you had really been protecting her, that asshole never would have got a copy of the test," Santana growled, her eyes narrowing. "Why the hell would you keep something like that around?"

"It's just something I keep on file," Rachel explained brashly, "I keep _everything_ on file!"

Brittany knew it was true, Rachel had the most elaborately organized record room she had ever seen, each label had a multitude of different secondary labels and Brittany found the level or labeling just as confusing as no labels at all. That still didn't excuse her from filing records that were detrimental to her career.

"Had it ever occurred to you that this could be used against her?" Santana looked at her like she was inept, and it made Rachel feel about an inch tall, "that it could be used against_ both_ of you?"

Rachel flushed, "I'm sorry if I don't live in a constant fear of blackmail like you do."

"Maybe you should think a little harder about this shit, since you're the one that helped opened this fucking can of worms and you're the one that gave St. James the ammunition against, Brittany," she pointed a sarcastic finger to the blonde, "your _friend_ here."

"Can we please stop fighting?" Brittany pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. She cared so much about these women, it sucked to see them going at it.

"We'll stop as soon as Rachel promises to destroy the rest of the test records," Santana crossed her arms indignantly.

"And what are you going to do if I don't," Rachel looked Santana up and down in a manner that screamed for a challenge, "sexually harass me?"

"Oh my god, Rachel. Don't start this," Brittany reached out and took a hold of Santana's arm, trying to disengage her from the argument but it was too late. Rachel had hit a button.

"You're one to talk," Santana ignored the hand on her arm as her vision went red, "how do I know you're not just fucking Quinn to guarantee yourself this scoop at Clockwork? Or should I be worried that you're going to leak all her drama to some sleazy tabloid as soon as you're done with her?"

"How dare—!"

"Guys, that's not stuff we need to be throwing around," Brittany tugged harder on her elbow pulling her from her standoff with the editor. "You both need to chill out."

"What? She gets to put you on under the gun like that but I'm not allowed to—"

"She cheated on me!" Rachel's voice cut through Santana's bitter argument. Quinn's eyes glanced over from the window for the first time since she sat down. Rachel was too beside herself to notice, "I caught her with that—man, her producer."

Santana's anger fell to the floor with Rachel's tears.

"I caught them in bed together and she had the audacity to be so fucking—" Rachel pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to keep the tears at bay, she had already promised herself no more tears for that woman, "_cavalier_ about it! Like I was supposed to understand, which was in insult in itself because I've never slept with a producer. Charmed them, sure. Let them feel like men with a pretty lady on their arm, guilty as charged. But slept with them? Not on my life. She didn't have the same principles, it had been going on for months and all I get is a fucking," Rachel's voice was absolutely dripping with contempt as she repeated the words verbatim, "_Oh, Rachel honey, I date women, I just sleep with men. It's only business, it doesn't mean anything._"

"Rachel," Brittany tried to step around Santana to get to her friend but Rachel stepped away.

"Yes!" she brushed the moisture from her eye roughly before pegging Santana with a stern look, "I did it. I leaked the extent of her promiscuity to that shitty little tabloid because I was angry, and hurt, and I never wanted her to be able to put another woman in that position again! It's not like it ruined her career, because she's still the lead in a show I've been dreaming about my entire life. It's not like I hurt her any more than she hurt me. It's not like she didn't—"

She cut herself off when a pair of thin arms wrapped themselves around her waist, Quinn drew her in close to her chest, saying resolutely, "That bitch deserved it."

A new batch of tears fell as Rachel squeezed her eyes closed and pressed her face into Quinn's shoulder, "I thought she did, but now… I feel so guilty sometimes."

"We all have something to feel guilty about," Quinn mumbled into her hair, her eyes shifting to Santana and Brittany, "and we don't need each other to make it any worse."

She pulled Rachel over to the couch and they sat down together. Quinn wrapping Rachel up against her, "San, could you run and grab me a bottle of water?"

Santana didn't have to be told twice, she glanced at Brittany and they silently made an agreement to give the couple space. Santana honestly wouldn't mind a little herself. A walk might do her temper some good, her office had turned into the runoff area to the mindless anger and frustration that Jesse St. James inspired, and she wanted out. After grabbing her wallet from her computer bag, Santana and Brittany walked out. Brittany was about to head to the main floor, to the nearest break room.

"Hey," Santana caught the blonde's attention, when Brittany looked over, she tilted her head towards the back exit and Brittany understood.

They made the track towards their hallway, slipping silently into their elevator, and cringing under their own silence.

Was it rude to talk about it this soon? Did they need to cool off a little longer? The questions hung uncomfortably in the air and Brittany felt like it was the first time things were this tense between them. She hoped that what St. James had shown Santana didn't change things, change Santana's opinion of her.

Santana tapped her knuckle against the cold hard wall, her eyes sliding to the blonde next to her, "I'm going to assume you weren't smoking a cigarette last night."

"No," Brittany shook her head, pursing the corners of her mouth, "I wasn't."

Santana nodded slowly. There was a part of her that didn't like the fact that, "I couldn't even tell."

"I'm kinda responsible about it," Brittany mumbled, trying to read her body language, hoping to get a clue as to what she was thinking. "I wouldn't think to get completely blazed right before going to dinner with you."

"Have there been," Santana wasn't sure if this was out of line, "other times... when I didn't notice?"

"No," Brittany met her eyes so hopefully she knew she was being honest.

"You never told me," Santana mentioned quietly, she didn't want to make it into a big deal. Brittany had already to expose more than she was obviously willing to at that point, Santana didn't want to push any further. Brittany had always given her that courtesy.

Brittany sighed, "And which date is the date that I can admit to being arrested on drug charges? The fourth? Seventh? Twelfth? And then you catch me smoking in some dark alley like I'm some shifty eyed drug runner and it was so obvious that you had a problem with it, Santana, even when you were trying to be cool about it, and that was when you thought it was just a cigarette. What am I supposed to say?"

Santana licked her lips, "Point taken."

"I'm not saying that I would have kept it from you for forever, or that I didn't think you would eventually… hopefully, maybe get used to the idea," Brittany continued helplessly, "I just would have liked to tell you in my own time, in my own way."

Santana could understand that sentiment. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She led Brittany out into the hall and onto of the floor with her favorite computer lab. She knew this floor was understaffed and there was a small chance that they would run into anyone. The luminescent glow of the vending machines guided their walk through the empty hallway; dark from disuse and energy conscious employees.

Brittany fidgeted with the cuff of her shirt sleeve as she debated on if she should satisfy her own curiosity. Really, she knew it didn't matter. She wouldn't hold anything against Santana, especially when it was at the hands of Jesse St. James. Still she couldn't help but wonder, "Does she still work here?"

Santana glanced up and over to the blonde next to her. Brittany's hair was picking up a blue tinge in the light of the vending machine, and on any other day, Santana would have commented on how pretty it was, instead she asked, "Who?"

"The woman he used to trick you," Brittany explained quietly.

Santana was honestly surprised by the question, and her eyes dropped to her wallet, "Um yeah, she still works in the marketing department. You've seen her around the building, passed her a couple of times in the lobby."

"How can you stand that?" Brittany felt her skin crawl at the thought.

She shrugged, feeding the machine a dollar at a time, "It was a long time ago, and it was easier to get over when I realized it was just Jesse St. James' game. She was just a pawn, and it's not like she meant anything to me."

The machine pushed out a water bottle with a dull thud, Santana grabbed it, taking her time to choose her next words.

"It wasn't," her eyes examined the water to keep herself busy, an embarrassed expression spreading over her face, "an emotional attachment... that I was looking for. Stupid, I know, but I was trying to break out of my post-UCLA funk and she was... there."

"I'm not judging," Brittany told her, and Santana knew she was being sincere. "I'm just glad she didn't hurt you."

"Ever since, I've been so against any sort of relationship with the people I work with. I didn't know who I could trust. It's been me, Quinn, and Kurt against the world," her eyes shifted up to Brittany through her bangs, "until you came along anyway."

"I'm glad I did," Brittany didn't know of anything she was more grateful for. She could take all the drama, all the dirty underhanded schemes, as long as Santana was here with her after them.

"Me too," Santana agreed, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. She didn't want to dwell on this crap with St. James. She wanted to take a leaf out of Brittany's book and get over it and on with her life. "And hey, on the bright side of all of this, it looks like you're going to be published after all."

Brittany blinked a few times, her mind reeling to get caught up with the idea, "I guess, you're right."

Santana shoved her shoulder gently, playfully, "Oh come on, you have to be more excited than that."

Brittany felt herself smile, a small bubbly presence pushing out all the ill feelings Jesse St. James had instilled in her since the meeting. Santana was trying to get her to cheer up. Brittany laughed softly, realizing that it was okay, they were going to be okay.

Santana smiled back at her, a small light of pride in her eyes, "There we go. There's no way in hell I'm letting today ruin how awesome this is for you."

"Awesome for us," she scuffed her shoe against the floor because she wanted to hug Santana and wasn't sure if she was allowed. "This is awesome for us, and it's all because of you."

Santana looked amused, "Hardly, all I did was answer some questions."

"No, I mean that we never would have gotten it approved if you hadn't shown St. James up like that."

She snorted, "Yeah, I'm still not sure how I feel about that, or even how long it's going to keep him quiet. Come on, let's get back upstairs. I don't need Rachel bawling all over my couch, Kurt will kill me for ruining the upholstery."

"Don't be mean."

"She started it."

Brittany rolled her eyes a little and chuckled, "We should probably apologize to her."

"I'm not apologizing," Santana shook her head in a adorably stubborn manner. "She threatened to fire you."

"Technically she has that right."

"_Technically_ she shouldn't have gotten in your face right after getting it from St. James, and in front of everyone too," Santana wasn't backing down on this one. "I'm offended on your behalf."

Brittany bit her lip, trying to fight a flattered smile, "Okay, so maybe she wasn't exactly tactful about it, but she was upset from the meeting."

"She didn't need to take it out on you," Santana hit the up button on the elevator and waited, crossing her arms, her lips pursed to the side. She was being stubborn, and protective, and Brittany couldn't help but love her for it. "And why are you ready to apologize so quickly, anyway? Last time she pissed you off you made her grovel for an entire dinner before you even cracked a smile."

She had been completely serious but the melodious laughter that fell from Brittany's lips warmed her entire body. It was so good to hear the woman laugh after a morning like this one.

"That's completely different," Brittany shook her head still laughing softly. "When she started plotting against St. James it was like, intentional. She deliberately left me out of the loop when she knew I had so much to lose. What happened in the office just now was only her being really mean because she was embarrassed and scared. She was upset and I'm the one thing she has any sense of control over, being my boss and all, she like, wanted to remind herself of that."

"That's bullshit, and rude as fuck," Santana didn't understand how Brittany could be so understanding.

"It was kinda rude, yes," Brittany agreed, "but I get that she was upset, I was upset, we were all upset. I don't want to be upset with each other anymore so if that means I have to let this one slide, I'm totally willing to do that."

Santana stepped into the elevator when it opened, "Well, I'm not."

Brittany followed Santana and beat her to the button on the wall, their fingers brushed and Santana was surprised when Brittany's wrapped around hers. The doors closed, and her stomach fluttered, and it had nothing to do with the way the elevator was lurching upwards. She looked up at the blonde, glad to see the hurt and anger gone from her eyes, Brittany truly was over it. She slipped her hand into Brittany's completely, squeezing it with a gentle reassurance.

"What if I asked you really nicely to be nice to Rachel because she was really embarrassed?"

"St. James embarrassed all of us," Santana mumbled, glancing at the numbers on the wall to gauge how much time they had together, how long she could keep Brittany's hand in hers.

"Which is exactly why we all need to get over it," Brittany closed a little distance between them, wanting to be as close to Santana as possible, to draw as much strength as she could from the woman, "I don't want this to mess us all up again."

Santana resigned herself to be cordial to Rachel when they made it upstairs. Quinn wouldn't appreciate her being a bitch anyway.

"Fine," Santana sighed, unable to hold her grudge under Brittany's kind eyes, "I'll play nice."

Brittany took a chance and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Santana's cheek. She lingered for a moment, taking in the light citrus scent of Santana's shampoo. If they could stay in this elevator for the next forever she thought she would be ready and willing to make that commitment. Unfortunately, the soft chime let her know that they had arrived to their floor and that the real world was going to sweep them up again. She pulled away, sighing, "Thank you."

* * *

><p>They opened the door of Santana's office to find Rachel still wrapped up in Quinn's arms. From the look of it they had both been crying and it made Santana want to go find Jesse and hit him with more than a threat. She handed Quinn the water bottle and wasn't surprised that she immediately passed it to Rachel. She tried to not get annoyed by that. To keep her spirits up, Santana went to her desk and finished off the drink Quinn had poured her. Quinn's own cup was empty.<p>

"Brittany," Rachel was pinching her own fingertips as she softly said, "I am so sorry about the way I acted earlier."

"I am too," Brittany sat on the couch next to her, "I'll forgive you if you promise not to give me that drug test you were talking about."

Rachel met Brittany's eyes and found the sly smile in them. She laughed with as much gusto as she could muster in her emotionally drained state, thankful that Brittany was able to make a joke about it, "I'll take that deal."

Santana leaned against her desk, watching Brittany take Rachel's hand for a quick squeeze, and holding her tongue. She wasn't about to apologize for anything she said. Brittany had asked her to be nice, she would try to be nice. Her kindness was her silence.

"I cannot believe that man has the capacity to ruin my magazine," Rachel's head fell into her hands and she mumbled, "I am so thankful to you, Santana, that you were able to use Sunshine's information to find enough dirt on him to intimidate him into silence."

Santana glanced away, crossing her arms over her chest, frowning when she said, "Don't thank me for that shit."

"Why didn't you do it years ago?" Brittany asked quietly. "When he first started blackmailing you?"

Santana let out a short breath, not wanting to come across insensitive but she had to say, "Because it's incredibly illegal, Brittany. Not to mention totally fucking crass. Why would I want to stoop to his level? And honestly, look at us," she made a sweeping gesture to the women in the room, "we're all some level of lady lover, using his own gay against him is like, the cherry on the hypocritical cake."

Brittany bit her lip, sighing, "You're right, I'm sorry. But, he's hurt you so much, I don't understand why you haven't fought back until now."

"That's just it though," Santana frowned deeply, more to herself than to anyone else. "He's only ever been trying to hurt me. You guys think I was pissed at you because you went behind my back about Sunshine, but that wasn't it."

Quinn and Rachel perked up curiously.

"As soon as you started working against St. James I knew he was going to try to get some dirt on you," Santana shook her head, giving Quinn a tired look, "and then you and Rachel started a coup and that just made _her_ a target, and Brittany was guilty by association, and then I realized that it wasn't just me that was going to get messed up when he decided to stop playing around. I needed… something that might scare him into not leaking what he might have found."

"I'm still glad you did it," Quinn shrugged, knowing it would help Santana to have someone say she was justified, "you shouldn't feel guilty at all, he used that _woman_ to get the upper hand on you a long time ago, so in my book that's karma."

Santana still didn't look convinced, "Yeah, I guess."

"What do we do now?" Brittany didn't really feel like leaving Santana to go back to work on editing and she was sure Rachel was too out of it to want to work any more than she did.

"I say we exposed that man for the cretin he is," Rachel declared gruffly. "We should expose this whole company and it's disgusting lack of ethical practices."

"You can't do that."

Rachel looked at Santana like she was crazy. Quinn looked kind of sympathetic. Brittany wished Santana didn't feel this way.

"Seriously, and Britt, I mean no offense, I swear," Santana wished she didn't have to bring this up, "but, I need you guys to promise me that this feature isn't going to get me fired."

"What?"

"Santana, that's ridiculous."

"It's not," she had to make sure this was absolutely clear, "I _hate_ it, but I have to admit that what St. James said is right, I've been Clockwork's figurehead for too long to be marketable to other companies. If I get fired now…"

If she got fired now, after finally, maybe, getting out from Jesse's grip... Santana wasn't sure what she would do. Jesse was the major player in her animosity towards this company, and now that he had been at least temporarily controlled, maybe things would start looking up for her. If she got fired now she wouldn't be able to provide for herself, or even... if they got more serious... for Brittany?

"We're not about to publish something that will get you into trouble with your executives," Rachel assured her. "I said that on a whim, don't take me seriously. I understand the dynamics, and I'm going to promise you that Quinn will be approving the final cut. You're more than welcome to read it yourself."

"I don't need to nose around in your process," Santana brushed off her offer, still unsure if Brittany wanted to her to read it at all, "You just need to realize how serious this is. I get that as an editor you want the version of the story that's the most scandalous, and with this shit St. James just pulled I know you would totally be up for some revenge, but if you do that _I'll_ get fired and _I'll_ be fucked. I need you to say that you understand that, Rachel."

Rachel swallowed thickly, feeling another level of pressure coming down on her shoulders. If she messed this up she would be messing up Santana's livelihood. She nodded, "I understand, Santana."

Santana kept her eyes until she was satisfied, "Thank you. I'm sorry to doubt you, or whatever."

"I get it," Rachel assured her, "really, I do."

"We'll take care of it Santana," Brittany stood from the couch and made the short walk towards the woman. "Please, trust me on this one."

Santana wouldn't make Brittany to ask her twice, the look in her eyes said it all, "I trust you with everything, Britt. It just helps to hear it out loud sometimes."

"Would it help if I told you, I love you," Brittany's voice dropped to a level that was semi-private and meant only for Santana's ears. "Would it help if I told you I would rather not publish anything than risk all the work you've put into your career here?"

Santana's gaze fell to her shoes, the level of earnestness in Brittany's eyes and words too much for her to handle without feeling the telling prickle of tears in her eyes, "I wouldn't want you to do that, Britt, I would _never_ want you to do that. I respect your career just as much as I care about mine."

"I know, honey, I know," Brittany reached up and tucked a strand of Santana's dark hair behind her ear, "but that doesn't change the fact that I would do it. I love you, Santana."

"I—I love you too, Brittany," Santana didn't care about the others in the room when she rocked to her toes and captured Brittany's lips in her own, all that mattered was that this woman was willing to stay with her through all the drama, all the secrets, and even give up what she had been working so hard for.

She would never ask that of her, but the thought was just as powerful as if it had really happened. Brittany was more than she thought she deserved, and she would do whatever it took to get to that point.


	31. Chapter 31

It was well past dinner time and Quinn had yet to come down from her room. Santana wasn't surprised. It had been a really long, tiring,_ eventful_ day. She teetered on the bottom step, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her toes digging into the soft carpet, looking up the stairs and into what she could see of the hallway. Quinn was up there, of that she was sure. The purse hanging in it's usual spot on the railing told her so.

"Quinn?" Santana called up the stairs for the third time. Much like the basement was her own space, Quinn ruled the upstairs. It's not like Santana needed permission to go anywhere in their home, but after a day like today... she wanted to give Quinn the courtesy of a warning. "Quinn, I'm coming up and bringing dinner."

She moved up the stairs slowly, balancing two bowls in her hands. The hallway was dark, and she expected it to be. When Quinn was upset, she favored dramatically dark, sheltered places. They were similar in that aspect. There was only one light on, a small desk lamp in Quinn's study, it's light pooling from the open door and into the hallway, illuminating a the only other person in the household. Santana stopped outside the door. She looked cautiously down at the woman, sitting against the wall across the hall from the door, looking into the room with a vacant stare.

"Quinn," Santana knelt down, pressing her back to the wall and sliding the rest of the way to the floor, "I made you dinner."

When the warm bowl made contact with her thigh in a gentle nudge, Quinn's focus fell to the bowl of spaghetti, a fork sticking out haphazardly from under a piece of garlic bread. She took the dish with a mumbled, "Thanks."

"What are we looking at?" Santana asked not unkindly, taking up her own fork and twirling the noodles around it. She had eaten her own bread at the bottom of the stairs as she debated coming up here.

Quinn stayed quiet, pushing her spaghetti around the bowl for a moment before saying, "What could have been."

From her spot next to Quinn and across the hall, Santana could see an edge of Quinn's desk, a sturdy bookshelf that was busting at the seems, comfortable chairs... she didn't really understand.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what the very worst part of giving her up was?" Quinn kept her eyes on the food she probably wasn't going to eat and Santana waited for her to continue. "Realizing that years ago you couldn't have provided for her the way you were supposed to be able to... as a... as a mother."

Santana set her fork down, the sense of complete self-loathing radiating off the blonde was putting her off her appetite.

"Then, years later, when you have a degree, a nice job, and a house," Quinn scoffed to herself, "fucking dental, and a 401k... you start to see how easily you could provide for her _now_, and that makes things so much worse. Seeing how she could have fit into my life now, but isn't—because I gave her up."

"Q, you wouldn't be where you are now if—"

"Don't tell me she would have been a burden," Quinn cut Santana off. "Single moms go to college all the time. It was possible, I was just too scared... too selfish to want to work that hard."

"And what? Leave her in daycare while you juggle a job, night school, and everything she needs?" Santana played devils advocate in the softest, gentlest tone she could provide. "It was lose-lose either way. I know it sucks now, yeah, this room could have been your daughter's bedroom instead of a study. You're right, but honestly, it would have taken you ten more years to get to this point if you had gone down that road."

"I could have done it."

"You could have," Santana wasn't arguing otherwise, "but twelve years ago you made a decision to give that kid a way to have the best life possible,_ in that moment_, not fifteen years from then when you finally get a degree from night school at community college and she's grown up with babysitters, so you don't even know her when you come home at night."

"You don't know that it would have ended up like that," Quinn knew there was some truth to what Santana was saying. It had been her worst fear when she was trying to make the decision in the first place. What if, even with all of her hard work, she still couldn't give her child what she needed?

"I don't," Santana conceded, "but I do know she looked adorable in that softball get up."

The remark inspired a breath of laughter from the blonde, "She did."

"Didn't you play softball as a kid?" Santana asked, eying the small smile in her friend's eyes.

"I did," Quinn glanced at the ceiling as she thought back, "shortstop."

"How did you not know you were into girls until college?" Santana teased, earning herself a punch on the thigh. "Joking, joking, god."

"You're one to talk," Quinn rolled her eyes, "you were so far in the closet our first year at UCLA, it took a sorority intervention to get you to admit it to yourself."

Santana flushed at the memory, "Whatever, you were the one jumping on the bandwagon so..."

Quinn laughed at her weak comeback and Santana was just happy to be able to get her to laugh somehow, "Yeah, we had some pretty fun times back then."

"Yeah," Santana agreed, "look Q, I don't know about what coulda, woulda, shoulda been, all I know is that you did right by both you and your daughter back then. I've never doubted that."

Quinn sighed quietly, "That's what Rachel said too."

Santana bristled at the mention of her name, the attack on Brittany still fresh in her mind, "Well, it's nice that we agree on at least one thing."

"I know she's probably not your favorite person after that argument she started with Brittany," Quinn chuckled dryly, taking an interest in her spaghetti for the first time, "but don't be too harsh to judge her. Not everyone has gotten used to the idea that one person could ruin everything they've ever worked for in the blink of an eye like you have."

"I don't care what was going through her head," Santana told her, "she was _so_ far out of line back there she was off the fucking grid."

"It probably doesn't mean anything to you," Quinn shrugged as she took a bite of her food, "but she told me she would've never made Brittany take another drug test."

"Nope," Santana shook her head, "not a thing."

After a few more bites, Quinn stated the obvious, "So Brittany's a pothead."

Santana frowned around her fork, unsure if she was going to take offense to that term, instead she said, "Apparently."

"You didn't know?"

"I had no idea," Santana didn't want to admit that there was still a lot about that piece of information that she still didn't know.

"I don't really blame her for not telling you this early in your relationship," Quinn could tell Santana didn't know what to think about it just yet. "Have you talked to her about it?"

"Only enough to find out why she didn't tell me, and how many times she's been high around me and I didn't know."

"How many is that?"

"Just once," Santana thought back, thinking about clues. Should she have figured it out sooner? "When we all went to dinner at that bogus Mexican place."

Quinn's eyebrows quirked up in surprise, "Wow, in front of Rachel and everything?"

"I know," Santana set her bowl aside, "don't you think that's... like, totally reckless?"

"Or completely normal," Quinn suggested, "because if what Rachel told me was the truth, then Brittany shouldn't have been afraid to get caught, because Rachel never would have done anything about it anyway."

Santana mulled it over in her head as Quinn finished off her dinner.

"Do you have a problem with it?" Quinn asked her seriously.

Santana wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel, "How can I have a problem with her smoking pot after she's already accepted the fact that there's pictures—and a _video_ of me and her ex-boyfriend floating around?"

"Don't think of it like that," Quinn frowned, surprising Santana. "Don't do it out of some sort of sense of obligation because she's always been really understanding. If this is okay with you, it has to be because it's okay with _you_, not because _she's_ okay with your own issues."

Santana bit the inside of her cheek, really trying to figure out what was bothering her about this, "I just don't know anything about it, I mean, I've never smoked pot before in my life. I've never even been around people doing it. You know the kinds of people I hung out with in college, people drinking themselves into liver failure, or nerds too caught up in their studies to get a healthy does of vitamin D. It's like, a totally foreign concept to me. I don't know how I'm supposed to react to this."

"You need to tell her that," Quinn chuckled next to her, finding the situation amusing, "because seriously, she's too good a girl to let this get in the way, and who knows, maybe she'll quit if you ask nice."

"I wouldn't want to make her do that," Santana mumbled, she was sure of that much.

"Then I guess you have your answer."

* * *

><p>After two full days of editing, Brittany was finally able to get away from the office for one more day with Santana, and for a reason that had everything to do with business. The feature was to be printed in only a few days time, as soon as she finished this last task.<p>

Brittany had found her just as she wanted her; surrounded by a few coworkers, tablet in hand, the focus clear in her eyes. It was obvious that she was giving direction, clear and precise, as always. She gave orders that were easy to be executed because she had always been very forthright about what she wants. The people around her were listening attentively, not wanting to miss a detail and risk disappointing her. She was scary when she was disappointed.

Santana had a very obvious control over the area around her and Brittany was happy to catch it on film.

At the sound of a shutter, Santana's eyes narrowed sharply, honing in on the offending sound. Brittany bit back a laugh at how quickly Santana's face changed from intimidatingly suspicious, to bright eyes and the beginnings of an excited smile. Santana was quick to excuse the gathering and the people around her broke off to attend to their assigned tasks. A few glanced at Brittany with kind smiles, used to her presence around the office.

As Santana walked over she tucked her tablet under her arm, pushing stray lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes fell to the floor just before she stepped up to the blonde. She finally glanced up, trying her best to keep from looking too happy to see her girlfriend, mumbling, "What are you doing here?"

"I have one more thing to do before we publish," Brittany held up her camera as explanation and chuckled when Santana rolled her eyes playfully.

"I hate cameras."

"I know," Brittany turned on the review feature of the digital camera to flip through the pictures she had taken at the last convention, "but I want some pictures of you around you office doing everyday stuff, instead of just the convention… is that okay?"

Santana didn't even have to think about it before she said, "Of course Britt, whatever you want. Are you getting excited about the release?"

"More like nervous," Brittany laughed at herself softly, she was actually losing sleep over the whole thing. "Crazy nervous."

"Don't worry about it," Santana told her. Brittany shifted her focus back up from the camera to see the confidence clear in Santana's eyes when she said, "it's going to be great."

"Did you come in super early this morning?" Brittany asked before she could think better of it, catching the flash of uncertainly in Santana's eyes.

"Why, do I look like I'm running on three hours of sleep?"

"No," she assured her, biting her lip and shaking her head, "no, not at all. It's your glasses, San. I asked because of your glasses, you always wear them when you come in early, and I thought that maybe the morning got too hectic before you could put your contacts in like you normally do."

Because they were the subject of conversation, Santana fidgeted with the frames, "Um, actually, I thought about putting in my contacts, but then I realized that I didn't care."

"I'm glad."

Santana caught her eyes and she knew exactly why Brittany was glad, she loved her glasses. Santana had to look away to try to hide her blush, but she could almost feel the blonde grinning next to her.

"I was just about to head to the lab," Santana took a step in that direction and gestured awkwardly with her thumb, still too giddy about Brittany's sudden appearance in the office to even pretend to be smooth.

Brittany watched her amused eyes, finding her behavior endearing, "That's perfect."

It was truly her last day of shadowing Santana and Brittany was going to make the best of it. She took her time to get the photos she wanted, Santana at a computer in the lab, working with the team that was closest with her, Mike and Sam. It was a happy coincidence that Brittany was in time for the morning COG, which was more of a progress report for the exhibition than pitching new ideas. Brittany was glad to get a snapshot of the meeting, Santana among her peers in the circular meeting area.

When she was finished taking her pictures, Brittany lowered herself into the seat next to Santana, still left open on the assumption that she would be joining eventually. It was a gesture that made Brittany feel like she belonged there and she loved it. Brittany listened to the happenings around her, appreciating the vacant seat across from them; Jacob wasn't missed at all.

"Are you interviewing to replace Jacob?" Brittany asked as the conversations broke down into smaller groups when the called the end of the meeting.

"Not at the moment," Santana shrugged, gathering her tablet. "I'll start after the exhibition. I already have a few applications submitted, no one looks to promising yet."

They stood in unison, moving towards Santana's office, because that was what they always did after these meetings. As always, Santana opened the door and waited for Brittany to go first.

"When are you going to take this desk out?" Brittany asked, quirking an eyebrow teasingly.

"Oh, you know," Santana waved her hand dismissively and didn't meet Brittany's eyes, "whenever I get around to it."

"You don't want to take it out," Brittany bit her lip, watching Santana pause as she was connecting her tablet to her computer.

Her dark brown eyes shifted from the desk in question, to Brittany's flattered expression, to her own hands. She had never really been a sentimental person, but Santana wanted Brittany's desk to stay there. She continued her work as she admitted, "No, I don't want to take it out… and hey, I don't mean to brush you off, but I have to send out some emails really quick."

"No problem," Brittany waited until Santana had settled into her office chair to pull her camera back to her eye and snap a quick shot while the brunette's focus was diverted by trying to look like she wasn't too emotionally involved in the conversation.

Again, Santana's focus was quick to shoot to the camera in hand.

Brittany dropped the object to her stomach, "are you sure this is okay?"

Santana gave her a small smile, "Yeah, I promise, Britt. The noise just startled me."

It surprised her how comfortable she was in front of a camera with Brittany. It's not like it was the first time she had taken Santana's picture, Brittany had been there with a camera at the conventions, and even just now around the office, it was easy to keep her focus on her work and not on the sound of a shutter closing nearby. Here in her office, however, when it was just the two of them and the only thing Santana could focus on was Brittany and her camera… it made Santana nervous in a different kind of way.

Not the usual skin crawling, get that camera away from me kind of way, more like the… I hope she likes what she sees kind of way.

"How's the um… editing going?" Santana asked for conversation, her hands were moving along the keyboard, but her eyes stayed resolutely on Brittany's.

Brittany caught the edge to her tone and laughed softly, "It's been going alright. Rachel has been very nice actually."

"Good," Santana glanced back to her screen, she was still holding a grudge against the editor about what happened after the fiasco with St. James. Brittany had been trying to get her to overlook it, but wasn't having much luck.

"Santana," Brittany walked a little closer, keeping Santana's desk between them.

"Hm?" she lifted her eyebrows in question, as if she didn't know what Brittany was trying to scold her for.

"You're really cute when you're being protective and stubborn."

Santana scoffed, hitting the send button and opening another window, "I'm not being stubborn."

Brittany raised her camera to take another picture before saying, "You are probably one of the most stubborn people I've ever met, and I miss seeing it all day, everyday, because I love it."

"I'm..." Santana flushed with a wry smile, "not really sure how I'm supposed to take that."

"Take it as a compliment, and an offer," Brittany set her camera down, taking care to point the lens away from the Latina. She made her way slowly around the desk and could feel Santana's eyes follow her. She always did like it when Santana stared. She got to the other side of the desk, and by this time Santana had stopped typing altogether, her dark eyes focused entirely on the blonde as she leaned down and said, "because I want to spend time with you, tonight."

"Um," Santana licked her lips, her heart might have just skipped a beat, "what did you have in mind?"

Brittany just smiled coyly, leaning forward to close the small distance that was left between them and kissed the brunette like she had wanted to since she first stepped into the building. Santana leaned heavily onto the arm of her chair to get a fraction of an inch closer to the blonde, to be able to kiss her deeper. The blonde's fingers worked gently into her hair, cupping her face as her tongue teased along Santana's bottom lip. Brittany pulled away, still smiling as Santana let out a small pout. Her eyes flicked over to Santana's computer and her smile only grew, "Nice email."

Confused, Santana turned to her computer. She groaned when she found a string of useless letters littering her document, she had been accidentally hitting her keyboard as they kissed.

"It's almost a good thing that you're going back to your real job," Santana had to say it even if the blush on her face was getting darker with every word, "because I never would be able to get any work down with you here any longer. I've been doing great so far, but I swear there's been times... I've barely been able to keep myself professional."

Brittany laughed from behind her as she fixed her email, kissing the top of her head softly, "I know exactly what you mean."

* * *

><p>A quiet night of video games and beer seemed to be the perfect solution for the rough week they had. Santana had made them dinner, Quinn had made herself scarce, and now it was time to enjoy each others company and a large flat screen TV.<p>

"Ask me another," Santana prompted, keeping her eyes on the television where her _Skyrim_ character was questing like a badass.

"What do you find unattractive in women?" Brittany asked with a sly smile. She was sitting behind Santana, the smaller woman nestled between her legs, head resting on Brittany's shoulder, their feet resting on the coffee table.

"That's one of those crazy girlfriend loaded questions," Santana snorted.

"Who is this crazy ex-girlfriend that's scared you so badly?" Brittany's hands, that were sitting easy against Santana's hips, slipped over her stomach, drawing her up closer. "It can't be Tina because she's awesome."

Santana laughed at the thought, "No, I'm just paranoid."

"Well knock it off, 'cause I'm not crazy," Brittany promised, "but I am blonde, and that puts me ahead already, so you don't have to worry."

"That's true," Santana mused, adjusting her glasses before continuing her quest.

"So… what's something you don't like?"

"Do you mean physically?" Santana scrunched her nose, "or are we talking personality."

"Let's start with physically," Brittany teased and Santana rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Okay fine," she considered it for a moment, and Brittany waited for her to gather her thoughts, "I'm not really a fan of women that are shorter than me. Like, Rachel is way too short."

"Would you prefer taller or about the same height?" Brittany took a strand of Santana's hair between her fingers, twirling it slowly.

Santana wasn't sure if Brittany was fishing or not, but she answered truthfully, "Taller."

"Do you like being the little spoon?"

"I could be the big spoon if I wanted," Santana flushed, nearly embarrassed by her little spoon status. Little spoons weren't nearly as badass as she'd like to think of herself as.

Brittany tickled the soft fabric along Santana's ribs, "So you must like being the little spoon, because you haven't tried to be the big spoon yet. Plus, we're kind of spoon-sitting right now, and it was totally your idea."

Santana huffed dismissively and Brittany laughed. She wouldn't say it out loud, and she really didn't have to. She loved being the little spoon and Brittany knew it. There was something about being wrapped up in the blonde's arms that made her feel more comfortable with the world than she's felt in years.

"What else?"

"Hm," Santana made a pondering noise in the back of her throat and Brittany could feel the rumble in her chest. "I'm not really into big boobs. I mean seriously, anything more than a handful is a waste."

Brittany giggled into her temple, "You're ridiculous."

"I am," Santana shrugged cutely, pressing against Brittany's chin gently, "and you asked, so what about you?"

"What do I not like in women?" Brittany repeated the question as she thought about her answer. "I don't know, I'm not really picky, like I said, I've never had a particular type that I look for. I don't think I could be with a woman that was taller than me, that would just freak me out. I think Quinn's height is as tall as I would want to go."

"Is that the same with the guys you've dated?"

Brittany watched Santana's character slay a few wolves as she answered, "No, they're normally taller than me, or pretty close to the same height."

"I guess you can't look for the same things in a man that you like in a woman," Santana snuggled a little closer deeper into Brittany, moving her foot so their sock covered feet were touching.

"Not really, no."

"Which do you like better?" Santana had to ask, "Girls or boys?"

"That's not a fair question," Brittany laughed, pinching Santana's side and loving the way she squirmed under her fingers, "they're so different."

"It's like asking if you'd rather ski or snowboard," Santana countered, "sure they're completely different things, but at the end of the day you're still on the bottom of a mountain."

Brittany pondered it while Santana shuffled though weapon options for her character, "You want me to say that I like girls better."

Santana rolled her eyes like it was obvious, but Brittany could tell that she was playing around, "Well, yeah."

"I love girls," Brittany spoke a little more sincerely, "they're way more complicated at times... but I think it can totally be worth it."

"I'm pretty complicated," Santana admitted quietly.

Brittany held her close, "It's one of the things I love about you."

"I love everything about you," Santana declared in the same softly serious voice.

"That's not even true," Brittany chuckled lightheartedly, "you have an issue with that stuff Jesse St. James showed everyone about me."

Santana bit her lip, "Okay, so I'm not sure I'd be up for hanging out while you're… well, getting high… but it'll grow on me... eventually, I'm sure."

The soft kiss on her cheek was a silent thank you for at least trying.

"I get that you might not want to talk about it," Santana mumbled softly, "but... I'd kinda like to know about all this stuff with Rachel. I don't wanna assume that I know the whole story, and honestly, I wouldn't think a magazine would do that much drug testing."

Brittany captured the fabric or Santana's shirt and tugged gently, her toe tracing the arch of Santana's foot.

"It's embarrassing," Brittany glanced at the ceiling, "but it was right after that story about the bakery was published, do you remember what I'm talking about? The one that was closing?"

"Yeah, then after your story published the story the place got enough publicity to stay in business," Santana nodded, "I remember."

"Right," Brittany was pleased that Santana remembered, "after that story ran, I kind of made a name for myself around the office, and that's when Rachel first took a notice to me. She told me I had all sorts of potential and was on my way to becoming a journalist."

"And she wasn't wrong," Santana offered quietly.

"She almost was," Brittany sighed. "While I was writing about the bakery, we picked up a few stories about marijuana rings in public schools and Rachel did a bunch of blanket testing after they were all said and done. She didn't expect the only person to test positive to be one of the only reporters not involved in that particular investigation."

"Shit."

"Yeah," Brittany mumbled into her hair, "like I said, she could have fired me, but instead she swept it under the table and gave me another assignment."

"Why didn't she fire you right off the bat," Santana's eyebrows furrowed, "if you guys weren't even friends then and she didn't have a reason to help you?"

"She told me that she had been really impressed with my writing," Brittany shrugged, "and that I was completely honest with her when she confronted me about failing the test. Obviously I left out that arrest, but I was up front about everything else. She decided to keep an eye on me after that, made me report to her directly about a lot of my work. Eventually, she stopped coming to my cubical to ask me about my work and started asking me about my life. Now, she's seriously one of my best friends."

Santana was quiet for a moment before glancing sideways to the woman and asking, "Why would she treat you like that then? She went off on you like crazy back in my office, Britt. She was totally threatening you."

"She was upset that I lied to her," Brittany had the decency to look guilty about it. "I never told her about being arrested and it hurt her."

"I still don't think—"

"She would never fire me," Brittany met her eyes and Santana realized that Brittany believed it completely. "She doesn't like the fact that I do it, so she makes it really inconvenient by testing me and giving me a guilt trip, but she's told me, she's _promised_ me, that she would never do that."

"You trust her?" Santana wanted to make sure.

"I do," Brittany nodded. "If I didn't trust her I would have stopped a long time ago, there's no way I would risk my career like that. I'm not stupid. She's all about the threat. She's not heartless, Santana."

"Hm," Santana continued playing her game and Brittany could feel the question lingering in the air.

"Do you want to know about the arrest?"

Santana bit her lip, "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"You're curious."

"I am."

"I just want you to know that I'm not a dealer," Brittany chuckled low in her chest. "I've never been a dealer."

"Then why were you arrested with intent to distribute?"

"I was with a group of friends, yes, a bunch of pot headed teenagers," Brittany explained with a mild sarcasm. "We were in a usual hang out, an abandoned barn on some guy's property. The cops got called, we scattered. A few of them already had priors so... I took their stuff, hid it in my purse, and booked it."

"_That_ was a great idea," Santana mumbled under her breath, earning her a sharp poke in the ribs.

"I was caught, obviously, and when they searched my purse there was all these little baggies of weed and it looked like I was selling to the rest of them," Brittany continued, ignoring Santana's sass. Brittany knew the woman was just trying to make light of the situation. "They wanted to try me as an adult and give me some crazy sentence to make an example of me because some guy was up for reelection."

Santana squeezed Brittany's knee sympathetically, "How did you get around that?"

"My parents sued the county for police brutality," Brittany explained softly, a bitter tone to her voice, "you saw that shiner on the arrest photo right? They came to some sort of deal and it was dropped from my record after my parole and community service."

"That's really cool that your parents were behind you like that, I think my parents would have disowned me. Even if it was just something silly I did when I was young."

"I was pretty lucky about everything," Brittany smiled into her hair, happy that she was able to admit everything and Santana still wanted to sit on this couch with her.

They fell into an easy silence, glad to feel the weight of a confession lift of their shoulders, clear the air, understand each other even better. After watching Santana play for a few more minutes, she kissed the woman's ear softly, smirking when Santana flinched in a way that meant she was being tickled.

"What's your quest about?"

"Being a badass," Santana joked, really she had stopped focusing a while ago.

"So exciting," Brittany chuckled. She slid her hands up Santana's ribs and paused just shy of the underside of her breasts.

"You're totally not helping my concentration," Santana mumbled in a breath.

"I'm sorry," Brittany smiled, her hands retreating back to Santana's hips, which didn't really help.

"You're fine," Santana licked her bottom lip, "I like it."

Brittany played idly with the hem of Santana's shirt, "Can I...?"

Santana tilted her head back and kissed the blonde softly, "Yes."

Brittany smiled into their kiss and wasn't surprised that Santana pulled away smiling too. She turned back to her game and continued their previous conversation, "Ask me another question."

"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

Santana felt herself blushing already, "Sixteen, you?"

Brittany's hands slipped under her shirt, tracing light, loopy patterns in the skin just under her belly button. "I was fifteen, sophomore, his name was Jake."

"I can't even remember what his name started with," Santana didn't feel guilty either, "he was some stupid—"

"Football player?"

"I was going to say jock," Santana smirked, "but yeah."

"I want to see you in a cheerleading outfit," Brittany whispered into Santana's ear, her warm breath washing over the sensitive skin. Santana was barely able to suppress a shudder.

"I burned all of the pictures," Santana kept her eyes on the television, trying to ignore the fingers creeping up her sides. They worked a little pressure here and there, somehow, Brittany had already figured out where to press to make her laugh, and where to press to make her shiver.

"That's too bad," she continued working her hands up Santana's ribs, giving each natural rung its own affection, then falling back down her stomach.

Brittany's thumbs traced the thick elastic band of Santana's Nike sweatpants, riding low on her hips. They moved from the center until they could sink into the pockets made by Santana's hipbones raising the fabric.

"I think you would be totally hot in a little uniform," Brittany let her lips graze the shell of Santana's ear, causing her glasses to go slightly askew, and Santana wasn't able to keep her breath from hitching, "and you glasses."

A lopsided grin spread over Santana's face at the image, "Blasphemous."

"Beautiful," Brittany corrected, her hands raking blunt nails over the gorgeous olive skin. Santana's shirt bunched under her fingers as she moved her hands up her abdomen. She placed a loving kiss on the crook of Santana's neck, in that place where her lips had first touched the woman.

Santana remembered that day, and her body did too; it came alive with the memory of what Brittany had inspired in that dressing room. She felt her pulse pound against the skin of her neck, ringing in her ears. She took in a slow, steadying breath, her eyes fluttering closed until her pride made her look back to her game.

Last time they made out on this couch Santana hadn't exactly been proud of her performance, she wasn't about to give in easily this time. Brittany made a trail of nibbling kisses up the arch of her neck, placing one on the corner of her jaw before taking Santana's earlobe in her mouth. Santana nearly ran her character off a cliff, a strangled noise spilling from her deep in her throat.

She could feel Brittany's lips quirk into a smile, but the blonde didn't let up, sucking teasingly on the small piece of flesh as her fingers brushed along the underside of Santana's bra, just light enough to make her presence known and to make her want more. Brittany didn't miss the way Santana's chest expanded with a drawing breath, hoping to urge Brittany's hands into fuller contact, show her exactly what she could be holding onto.

Brittany let her teeth slide down the earlobe in her mouth, earning herself the softest of moans from the brunette. One of Brittany's hands fell into the temptation of Santana's exaggerated breaths, and moved under Santana's bra, grasping at the warm flesh. Santana arched into her, feeling her nipple tighten against Brittany's palm.

"God, Britt—"

"I think," Brittany whispered, her other hand traveling down the warm body to graze over a hip, then her thigh, letting her fingers tease along the outer seam of Santana's sweatpants on the way towards her knee, then crossing over to the inner seam on the way back up. A moment ago Santana would have been embarrassed by the way her knees parted, welcoming, urging, needing the blonde's hand to continue along their path. Now, Santana's ability to make sense of things like pride and self-control were completely forgotten.

All she wanted was Brittany.

"That you are," Brittany's voice kept her grounded, "so beautiful."

Santana whimpered when Brittany's fingers grazed over the between of her legs and right on by to the more neutral territory of her stomach. Santana cursed her teasing as much as she praised the lips against her neck, the fingers playing with her nipples. By this time her eyes were shut tightly, her chest fluttering for breath. Then, Brittany's hand started a quest of it's own.

Traveling lower, and lower, into more dangerous territory, Brittany's fingers braved the elastic ban of Santana's sweatpants and even dared to tread under the fabric of the brunette's underwear. The next moan that fell from Santana's parted and panting lips was much louder. The warm heat, wet and wanting, gave Brittany a surge of desire, loving the effect she could have on this woman, someone she loved. She was tender, carefully conscious of Santana's reposes, using things that she already knew the woman liked and reacting to the way she was moving against her fingers now.

When Brittany circled lightly, gently, around that bundle of nerves, Santana moaned deep in her chest. The noise reverberated into Brittany's front and the blonde felt so close to her, feeling every breath, every shudder. The friction she was offering wasn't enough for Santana. The brunette threw her head back over Brittany's shoulder, letting the last of her control go. Her hips, still nestled between Brittany's legs, started rocking into the blonde's hand.

"Britt, please..."

Brittany knew it wasn't time to tease anymore, she rubbed firmer, faster. The thumb of her other hand skimming over Santana's nipple, teeth sinking into the crook of her neck.

"Fuck—"

Santana, who might have even forgotten that she was holding the game controller, held on tightly, as if it was the only thing keeping her from losing it. Her body quaked under Brittany's fingers, hips still rocking, her breath getting away from her. She nearly lost it when Brittany's hips started moving along with hers. Finally throwing the controller to the side, Santana buried one of her hands in Brittany's hair, the other working its way behind her back, between them, into the soft cotton of Brittany's pajama pants and—

"Oh, jeez," Brittany gasped into Santana's hair. The muscles in her abdomen tensing, flush along Santana's lower back.

Santana, having a formidable head start, was already teetering on the edge when Brittany used her long arms to reach lower and slip inside her lover. Santana lost track of the words that were escaping her, half of them might have been in Spanish and Santana wouldn't have realized, all she knew was Brittany's body moving with hers, the short breaths washing over her ear, the way the blonde's thigh's were quaking next to her own.

She came, pushing her heels against the coffee table to press herself deeper into Brittany, with a pitched, shuddering, moan. She took a few, gasping breaths before turning in Brittany's lap, hands still in each others pants and hearts still going a mile a minute. Santana reset herself on Brittany's lap, this time straddling her, not bothering to wait until she was completely settled to kiss her girlfriend.

Brittany's head was spinning and she wasn't complaining in the slightest. Santana's hand, the one that wasn't preoccupied between Brittany's legs, snaked behind her neck to pull her deeper into the kiss. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and pulled her as close as she could without impairing Santana's ability to move her hand.

She could feel herself tightening around Santana's fingers, her toes curling, thighs trembling. She pulled away from Santana's kiss, burying her face in the brunette's chest as she gasped, "San—"

Santana held her close, riding her down gently with soft kisses along her hairline, "I love you so much, Brittany."

Instead of replying, Brittany tightened her grip around the woman's waist until she caught up with her body, her breathing evened out, and she could reply with a tangible thought, "So much, San, so much."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Brittany listening to Santana's heart while Santana ran her hands through Brittany's hair.

"Stay with me tonight," Santana spoke quietly into her hair, "I—I need you with me."

Brittany looked up, surprised and concerned at the waiver in the brunette's voice, "San?"

"I—" Santana glanced away, struggling with something on the tip of her tongue. Brittany rubbed calming circles in her back as she gathered her words, "Brittany, I'm really serious about you, you know that right?"

Brittany knew Santana would want her to take a moment to consider her words before she said, "I do, I know that."

"You mean so much to me," Santana cupped her face, her eyes shifting between Brittany's, "you know that, right?"

"I do," Brittany slipped her arms up Santana's shoulders and pulled her down so that they could kiss softly, "I know that."

Santana pressed another kiss to Brittany's forehead, lingering there as Brittany continued.

"I feel the same way," Brittany told her, "I'm in love with you, Santana."

She felt Santana smile against her forehead, "So in love."


	32. Chapter 32

_Here are a few copies for you and whoever you want to brag to. Congratulations, Brittany! You deserve it. – Rachel_

_ps — I hope you're ready to party!_

Brittany set the note aside and sank into her office chair, wishing her cubical was a little more private. Her hands were nearly shaking as she reached out, the thick manila envelope opened easily and Brittany was able to slide out one of the advanced copies from inside.

Never, had Brittany been so proud to see Santana on the cover of a magazine. Her magazine.

_Santana Lopez: Making Clockwork Tick Since 2010, by Brittany S. Pierce._

Written in the glossy shine, the words looked more important and official than anything Brittany could have hoped for. Her hand did shake as she traced the words on the page; first Santana's name, then her own. They had done it. They had made this happen. She took her time flipping through the magazine to get to the featured article, she skimmed the photos of Santana. They were all modest and organic to her work, there was even one of her winning at a college level robotics competition, Holly Holiday by her side and trophy in hand. Brittany hoped Santana didn't mind that she asked Holly for something from her school years.

Flipping through the pages Brittany skimmed the words, remembering what she had written, the edits she had made. Each paragraph gave her another memory of her time spent with the woman, getting to know her, learning about her experiences, working alongside her and seeing her world first hand. If she thought she missed working in Clockwork before, now it was worse, and so bitter sweet.

Brittany could feel the tears swell in her eyes even as she smiled, she took in a shaky breath. This was it. She was a journalist. She needed to go find Santana; she wanted nothing more than to share this with her. She started gathering her things, slipping the rest of the copies into her bag and shutting down her computer.

"Hey!"

She looked up, meeting the smiling faces of a few of her friends, "Hey guys."

"Is that it? Let us see."

Brittany flushed, handing over the magazine to let her friends look it over. She knew it was probably normal to get nervous as her peers looked it over, even if they would never say a word against it.

"This is so cool, Brittany," Mandy, a reporter that started working here around the same time as Brittany, held the magazine so she and her friends could see the pages as they flipped through, "and I am so excited for tonight."

"Tonight?" Brittany asked, confused.

"Rachel's throwing you a party," she laughed, "didn't you check your email?"

"No," Brittany's heart sank, "where is it at?"

"Grillan, duh, we never go anywhere else."

"Right," Brittany could feel the wind falling from her sails. Rachel had been hankering to get back to her favorite restaurant for a while now, and Brittany wasn't surprised that she had organized a company celebration there, it really was their go to place. She just wished Santana didn't have a peanut allergy. "Of course. What time?"

Brittany got the minor details from her friends, making sure they didn't get the idea that she wasn't anything less than ecstatic about everything, and then excused herself to take care of some errands. Her first stop was the post office where she found three matching priority service envelopes. She slipped a copy of the magazine into each, addressing them with a neat and tidy scrip from the stored addresses on her phone.

She sent one to her mother, the second to a mother figure, and the last to a woman she's never spoken to in her life.

After that was accomplished, Brittany made the short trip to Clockwork to find the woman that made this all possible. This time she called as she entered the lobby, because she didn't want to waste any time trying to find Santana in the huge building, and the closer they got to the exhibition, the more Santana was on the move. Thankfully, she was in her office and Brittany was glad because at least then they would have a little privacy.

"Hey Brittany," Mike greeted her as she walked onto the floor. He was obviously getting ready to call it a day, packing his laptop into a bag with a few notebooks.

She smiled, noticing that most everyone else was doing the same thing it was probably later than she thought it was, but still early for him and Santana, who had been working late this week, "Hey Mike. Early night?"

He smiled with a bashfulness she had never seen before, "I have a date tonight."

Her smile turned into a grin, and she patted him on the shoulder as she passed, "Have fun."

When the door to Santana's office slid open and Brittany disappeared inside, Santana was already on her feet, walking towards her with an unrestrained grin, "I thought I was going to have to wait until tonight to see you."

Walking in bare feet, her heels forgotten under her desk, her blazer folded over the back of her chair, sleeves rolled up, and glasses perched on her nose, Brittany was sure Santana was the most beautiful woman she's ever met. The door closing behind her was the only cue Brittany needed to gather her up in her arms and kiss her. Santana popped up onto her toes to reciprocate, too lost in the moment to worry about the slim chance that Quinn or Kurt, might walk in.

"You're really tall in heels," Santana kissed the corner of Brittany's mouth as she pulled away, falling onto the flats of her feet. Brittany just smiled slyly, a playful glint coming into her eyes that made Santana's stomach flutter.

"Then let me even things up."

Without warning, Brittany shifted her arms, hoisting the smaller woman into the air with a surprised squeal, "Britt—"

"I got you," she laughed, carrying the woman to her desk bridal style, and Santana was quick to wrap her arms around Brittany's neck for balance. Conscious of the woman's skirt, Brittany set the brunette down carefully and then slipped out of her own heels, effectively leveling their faces, if not making Santana a hair taller. "There, now we match."

Santana, who's arms were still around her neck, pulled her closer to kiss her again. "I love you, but it makes me feel weird that you can pick me up and carry me around like a little girl."

"What?" Brittany teased, "Does it make you feel silly?"

"Yes," Santana admitted.

"Fragile?"

"Yeah."

"Emasculated?"

"Yeah—wha—no." Santana blushed deeply.

"I think it does," Brittany kissed her warm cheek. "I think, especially here at Clockwork, you like to feel powerful."

"How do you mean?" Santana's eyes narrowed curiously, unsure of Brittany's meaning.

"You always have so much to prove," Brittany reasoned softly, "I bet you sat behind this desk and stared down Jacob Ben Israel like you were the owner of this company."

Santana's eyes skated away in an embarrassed moment of honesty. She swallowed thickly, shifting her hips so she was sitting sideways, and Brittany could move a little closer, pressing her lower stomach against Santana's thighs. She tried to think of how Santana's subordinates felt when they reported to her here. She had only seen it once or twice in her time at Clockwork, but the effect was riveting. Behind this desk, Santana was commanding, and it was so attractive.

"You do it every time you hold one of those meetings on the floor. Sometimes I feel like you use your tablet as a shield against everyone around you, like you hold all the secret information. When you leave this place," Brittany continued, "it takes a bit before you can let that defensiveness go, and you start being yourself again."

"I'm always myself around you," Santana confessed under her breath, knowing Brittany could hear her just fine.

"I know," Brittany assured her with another kiss, a hand finding its way onto Santana's thigh. "You're soft, and kind, and sensitive in a way that you would never be able to be here."

"Not everyone deserves the real me," Santana smirked, trying to use some bravado to keep her from turning into a heap of mush under Brittany's fiery stare.

"So I must be special," Brittany grinned.

"So special."

There was a seriousness to Santana's tone that made Brittany's heart pound in her chest, her grip on the edge of the desk and Santana's thigh tightening slightly.

"I have something for you," Brittany took a small breath to calm her nerves and reached into the bag still slung over her shoulder. She pulled out the magazine and dropped the bag at her feet next to her heels.

Santana's eyebrows lifted, "Is that..?"

"It is," Brittany whispered, holding it out for the woman.

Santana took the magazine and turned it in her hands so the cover was facing her, her thumb brushed over Brittany's name on the page, "Brittany, this is amazing."

"You haven't even read it yet," Brittany blushed and suddenly her nerves were coming back tenfold.

Santana looked up with bright brown eyes, "So I'm allowed to read it?"

"I never said you weren't," Brittany rolled her eyes with a smile.

"If you didn't want me to, I won't," Santana told her honestly, but her thumb was working along the corners of the pages.

"I want you to, I do," Brittany bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth, "but I can't be in the room when you do, so take it home tonight and we'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Why don't you…" Santana scratched her nose, "let me take you out to celebrate tonight. We'll talk about it then."

Brittany's eyes fell to the floor, "I totally would, but my friends at _The Lead_ are taking me out to that roadhouse Rachel likes."

"The one with all the peanuts," Santana's shoulders fell a little. Brittany opened her mouth to offer to cancel, but Santana beat her to it, with a small, genuine smile. "That's great, Brittany. You deserve to be recognized like that."

"I don't want to go if—"

Santana pressed a finger gently to Brittany's lips to quiet her, "Remember when we decided that it wasn't the most professional thing in the world to be shacking up with your feature subject?"

Against her finger, Santana felt Brittany's bottom lip twitch out into a pout.

"At least not so soon after publishing," Santana threw her hair behind her shoulder in a flirty manner, "I mean, I know that I'm Maxim worthy..."

Brittany's pulled away from Santana's hand laughing, "You put those girls to shame, Santana."

Santana's bravado faltered at the praise, "Still... I think it's best you go out with your friends and have a good time. You've worked so hard for this, you deserve a night that's all about you."

"But this isn't all about me," Brittany muttered, "you're as much a part of this as I am."

Santana glanced back to the magazine in her hand, her face on the cover. "Britt, all I did was answer some questions. You're the one that got me to open up, that put up with all my walls and baggage, and found some way to put that into something worth reading. This is your moment. You gotta go celebrate that, and be proud of yourself, because I sure am."

Brittany didn't think replying with a simple thank you would suffice, not when Santana made her feel like she was the best writer in the world. Instead she reached up, slipping her hand behind Santana's neck to draw her into a kiss, hoping that Santana would understand all of the things she was trying to say without words. When she felt the smile in Santana's kiss, Brittany was sure that they were on the same page.

* * *

><p>The reporting staff had commandeered a room in the back of the roadhouse, filled with music, writers, food, and drinks. Brittany's celebration was a warm welcome back into the fold. They congratulated her and made it known that she was missed in the office. Santana had been right, this was a great feeling, and totally worth it, she just wished she could have shared it with the brunette. She picked a peanut out of one of the large complimentary buckets, studying it for a moment and wondering why it had to be so mean. She threw it at one of her friends across the table and was proud that she hit him in the forehead.<p>

Missing Santana was a given, but Brittany found herself laughing along with her friends, telling them the best and worst parts of working at Clockwork without giving too much away about her relationship or Santana herself. There were of course, plenty of times when she wished Santana were there to tell the stories in the way only Santana could, like about how Sam tripped over an extension cord at the last convention and sent a monitor crashing to the ground. She could imagine the look on Santana's face as she relived that happy moment in her life.

Mandy, who was sitting next to her, leaned over to stage whisper, "Don't look now, but your boyfriend finally decided to show himself."

Brittany choked on her beer, wiping her chin and looking up in time to see Artie rolling himself through the doors of the private room. Rachel sent her a concerned glance, "I didn't invite him."

Mandy frowned curiously, "What, are you two fighting?"

"We're _over_," Brittany set her drink down, she could feel herself fuming.

"Shit, I wish I had known that when I invited him," she sent Brittany an apologetic look, "why would he show up if you guys had broken up?"

"I have no idea," Brittany shook her head slowly, for the life of her she didn't know the answer to that question. He must know that Santana would have told her the truth about everything by now, and even if she hadn't, Brittany had made it pretty clear that she wanted him to leave them both alone.

Rachel was already getting out of the seat next to her, "I'll take care of this."

Brittany watched her walk over to Artie and, more likely than not, politely tell him he wasn't welcome here. They were arguing, voices low, muffled in the buzzing air and drunken conversation. She looked at him as if she was seeing the man for the first time, images of him and Santana flashing though her mind and it made her grip on her beer tighten.

She wanted him to leave, she wanted him to leave and never see him again. More than that, she wanted him to hurt the way he's made Santana hurt. She wanted him to feel that pain and live with those scars. She wanted to give him a piece of her mind

In retrospect, Brittany will blame the alcohol.

She was on her feet and moving towards them before she could think better of it. Artie noticed her approach and tried to wheel himself around Rachel.

"What are you doing here?" Brittany asked callously.

"I need to talk to you," Artie sent Rachel a look that suggested he would rather be alone when they talked.

Brittany wasn't sure of a lot of things, but she was sure she'd rather have this conversation private just in case he decided to mention something that could be unflattering to Santana. She turned to Rachel, "Give us a second."

"Brittany, you're drunk, I'm not leaving you with him," Rachel took her arm and tried to pull her away.

Brittany shrugged her off, "I'm fine. I'm staying here."

Rachel looked between them warily. Finally she pegged Artie with a hard glare, "Alright, but I'm going to keeping an eye on you."

She walked away until she was just out of earshot, shooing everyone's curious eyes away from the former couple.

"What do you want, because the only thing I have to say to you is how much you disgust me," Brittany pointed an accusing finger in his face. "You _disgust_ me."

"I came to apologize," Artie could barely keep her eyes, and skillfully ignored the finger in his face.

"You think I want to hear your apology?" Brittany laughed harshly. "You think that means anything to me? I saw those photos, I saw what you did to that woman."

"I wanted you to tell you that I'm sorry for doing that," Artie admitted, "I shouldn't have sent those photos—I was so angry at the convention, and by the time you came to talk to me at my apartment, I had already given them to be delivered—"

"What you did wasn't something that you do when you're angry," Brittany wasn't accepting his excuse. "What you did was malicious, and hateful, and fucking evil, Artie, you're evil."

"I kept my promise," he argued softly, "I've stayed away and your feature is getting published, obviously."

"This," she waved a hand over her shoulder, gesturing to the group of people celebrating her success, "isn't thanks to you, it's _in spite_ of you."

"Look, I miss you Brittany, I—you meant a lot to me and I wish you would let me explain. There's so much about it you don't understand because you've only heard her side—"

"Her side is the only side that matters to me."

"You really are drunk," Artie started getting defensive as it became obvious that she wasn't going to do anything that even remotely resembled forgiving him.

"And you really are an asshole. If you even so much as give Santana a dirty look a this exhibition," Brittany leaned forward, placing one hand on each of Artie's forearms, pinning them to the armrests of his wheelchair. She saw him swallow thickly, leaning as far away from her penetrating stare as possible. "I'll make sure you regret it."

* * *

><p>While Brittany was out celebrating her success, Santana wanted to tie up a loose end on one of her greatest failures.<p>

She stood anxiously in front of a door. It was a nice door and, in all reality, nothing to be intimidated by. She had seen it before. She's used it on a decent number of occasions, and she might even have a spare key to it... somewhere.

Taking a deep breath, Santana and knocked loudly. Probably too loudly than necessary, but hey, she was nervous.

"Coming!"

A muffled reply answered her knock and Santana put her hand back in the pocket of her jacket. She took another breath, for luck.

"Sorry, I needed to find my—" Tina paused when the person on her doorstep was not who she expected. "Santana."

Santana eyed her clutch, the men's dress shirt she was wearing that barely covered the tops of her bare legs, "Are you… do you have _company_ over?"

Tina blushed under Santana's nearly impressed smirk, "Yes, actually."

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," Santana eyed the shirt again, there was something about it that seemed familiar.

"It's kind of, very, new," Tina blushed harder. "First date actually."

"Nice," Santana chuckled, without judgment. "If I had known I would have called first or whatever, I'll get out of your way—"

"Hey, wait," she laughed, glancing inside for a moment before opening the door wider, "come in and tell me what's wrong."

When Santana hesitated, Tina pulled her over the threshold. Santana's eyes glanced around for any signs of Tina's new man, "Why would you think something is wrong?"

"Why else would you show up on my doorstep?" Tina shrugged, "I don't exactly live down the street, Santana."

She pulled Santana out of the doorway and into a hug. The embrace was familiar and always something that would comfort her. Tina... had been her first real, serious relationship. Tina had been there for her before and after Artie. She had been the first to forgive her, the one to help pick up the pieces, and Tina had been hurt the most when Santana cut everyone off and fled to Berkeley. Even then, Tina had been there for her. She wished Tina knew how much it meant to her, and she hoped she would be willing to help her out again now.

"You're right," Santana flushed, a little embarrassed, but not at all surprised that Tina had seen through her, "I do have a more... ulterior motive."

"What's wrong?" Tina asked, taking her hand and pulling her further into the house.

"Hold up," Santana held back, glancing around again. "I appreciate you taking time away from your booty call to talk to me, but I don't really want to do this with someone else in the house."

Tina's grip on her wrist tightened, instantly understanding why Santana might be here. She licked her lips, "He's in the shower… we probably have about ten minutes. What's up, Santana?"

"I um..." her dark eyes skated around the apartment, just in case Tina's company was around, her voice quiet when she said, "I need that video, T."

Tina felt her stomach twist awkwardly, she released Santana's wrist to run her hands through her hair, in a mumble she asked, "What video?"

"Tina."

"Brittany told you," Tina bit her lip, knowing that it had always been a possibility. It had only been a matter of time. A part of her wondered if she had told Brittany as an easy way to come clean to Santana.

"I was awake for that whole conversation between you two that morning in the basement," Santana admitted.

Tina let out a quiet laugh, to break her nerves more than anything, "You always would just lay in bed."

"Yeah," Santana shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, watching Tina's toes curl into the carpet anxiously.

"Why would I still have it?"

The dark eyes that slid to hers were conflicted, as if she didn't know if she should be disappointed or relieved, "You don't?"

"Why would you want it, Santana?" Tina felt her heart breaking again. "What good will it do?"

"So you do have it," Santana decided.

Santana started walking further into the apartment anxiously, because she needed to do something. Walking, even if it was just around Tina's living room, felt like she was moving closer—closer to something... she still didn't know what she was looking for in all of this. Irrationally, her eyes scanned over the room, like she would be able to pick out the hiding place. Would Tina have it on a disk? External hard drive? A thumb drive? An old laptop?

"Where is it Tina?"

"Santana," Tina followed her cautiously, taking a seat on the edge of the couch and putting a throw pillow in her lap to fidget with, "sit down and talk to me about this."

"I don't want to sit," Santana huffed, "I want that video."

"Why would I keep something like that around?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Santana threw her hands up. "It could be proof that he took advantage of me."

"Don't even pretend that you would have ever pressed charges against him."

Santana deflated, knowing she was right and hating it.

"Please, what's the point in dwelling on this anymore?" Tina tried to reason with the woman but she could already see the gears turning. She knew Santana's stubborn behavior when she saw it.

"I'm allowed to dwell on whatever the fuck I want," Santana crossed her arms, planting herself on the opposite side of the coffee table and turning towards the woman.

"Don't give me that look, Santana," Tina drew her legs under herself, hugging the pillow.

"What look?" Santana threw her eyes to the ceiling, because she was giving Tina _that_ look.

"The one you give people when you don't understand why they're not agreeing with you," Tina frowned a little.

"What I don't understand is how you could keep this from me?" Santana was working at keeping herself calm. She was bordering on getting angry that Tina had kept this from her for so long, and breaking into tears because she's so sorry that the woman had to carry this burden herself.

"I told Brittany why," Tina shrugged, and Santana bit her lip at the fragile way she was hugging her pillow. Some of her anger slipping away. "Please don't make me explain it again."

Santana shuffled her feet, she would give Tina that small favor, "Alright, so you feel guilty because you said something stupid to Artie and he used it as an invitation. That's all he was looking for Tina, an _excuse_."

"That doesn't change the fact that I gave it to him," she picked at the fabric of the throw pillow, taking a shaky breath.

"You don't get to do that."

Tina looked up because she didn't understand what she was talking about. She found Santana pinching the bridge of her nose, her eyes squeezed shut tight.

"You don't get to feel guilty about saying some offhanded comment to an asshole that was telling you that you weren't good enough for me, and then turn around and tell me I can't feel guilty when I actually did something substantial, Tina, I cheated on you."

"Santana—you didn't—"

"I don't know what I did," Santana cut her off, "all I have to go off of is the pictures, which _apparently_ are really screen shots of a video. So please, let me enlighten myself. Let me see how giving Artie Abrams a blow job, isn't cheating on you."

"I wish you wouldn't say it like that," Tina stomach twisted at the image in her head.

"That's what happened," Santana threw her arms up again. She said things like that because she was still trying to get over it and maybe if she treated it like it was a simple fact it would be easier to let go. Maybe it she could convince herself to be indifferent to it.

"Santana, why—"

"Because it's _mine_, Tina," Santana spoke from between her teeth. It was her torment, and no one had the right to keep this from her. "This is mine, and if anyone has any right to have a hard copy, it's me."

"I still don't think it would be a good idea—"

"Tina."

"What did Quinn say? You know she'll agree with me—"

"_Tina."_

Tina looked up, her heart clenching at the soft pleading in Santana's eyes.

Tina opened and closed her mouth a few times before saying, "I don't have the video."

Santana's arms fell back to her sides, still as conflicted as ever about if she should be relived or not.

"But... you remember how I used to live on the third floor, right?"

"Yeah, what's that got to do with it?"

"After he emailed it to me... about half the way into the video, when you—" Tina cut herself off, a tear rolling down her cheek, "I threw my laptop out the window. Just ripped it out of the wall and chucked it out the window. Almost hit my own car in the parking lot."

Santana stared at her for a moment before bursting into a short fit of laughter. She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly, "There was a reason I loved you."

She smiled, even through her tears, because Santana was right. They had been happy together back then. But now it was a different time, and Santana needed her help to close an old wound.

"I still have the laptop," Tina stood from the couch. "I never threw it out because I'm not sure what people can still get out of it, even if the screen is all busted up and stuff. You're welcome to try... if you want."

She gave her friend a small nod, "Thank you."

Santana watched her walk out of the living room and down the hall towards her bedroom. Santana shuffled her feet along the hardwood floor before heading into the kitchen. She had her mind on a glass of water, maybe one of Tina's endless supply of ice teas, she didn't expect to run headlong into Tina's company.

"Shit, what the—" Santana rubbed her forehead where it had collided with a firm chin. She glanced up to his face and her stomach turned to ice.

Mike Chang, in boxers and an undershirt, stood with one hand still opening the fridge. Santana's mind reeled. How much had he heard? How long had he been standing here, just feet from the living room? The way he couldn't hold her eyes for more than a second at a time, told her he just might have heard everything.

Her hand fell from her head and clenched into a fist at her side. "How much of that did you—"

"All of it," Mike shut the refrigerator, taking a step away from the Latina.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I—Tina invited me over."

"And you thought you'd fuck her?"

Her defensive instinct, fused with a protective intuition towards Tina, made her lash out harshly. She knew there was nothing about Tina's behavior that hinted that their relations weren't just as much Tina's idea as it was Mike's, but she didn't care, she was too scared about what he was going to think of her if she gave him the time to. She needed to keep him on the defensive, remind him that she was in charge, she was his boss, she was still intimidating even if a cripple managed to take advantage of her.

"Real classy, Chang."

"I didn't—" he shook his head, trying to figure it all out.

"Why are you here?" Santana asked again for her own sanity. Why was he here listening to the things she was so ashamed about? She couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe this was happening.

The idea that she could lose his respect like this, after an overheard conversation, hurt more than she realized it could have. She would rather him mean nothing to her at all than risk feeling that disappointment.

He said the first thing that came to his mind, "You dated her?"

Santana could feel an angry heat spreading over her face, "Yeah, I did, and I can assure you that I respected her more than to sleep with her on the first date."

"That's not—"

"God damn it, Mike, why are you here!"

Santana pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Why was the one person that respected her here listening to all of the things that she was so embarrassed about? Everything that made her feel like the most disgraced person in the entire world, made her feel dirty, and used, and weak in the worst possible way. It was bad enough that Brittany had found out about this, now she would have to worry about his judgment at work.

What if he told someone?

"Santana, I—"

"We are not talking about this," Santana held up her hand to stop him, her eyes going clod. "This _never_ happened. Don't even think about—"

Santana fell silent when Tina's voice caught their ears.

"This computer won't even turn on anymore," Tina started as she walked into the living room again, "but you can probably work your magic on it somehow… Santana?"

"I'm over here," Santana stepped out from behind the wall dividing them, "with the guy that's been eavesdropping on us this whole fucking time. The guy that I work with, Tina. I am his boss! You should have told me he was here."

Tina clutched the old laptop to her chest, "Santana, I—"

"Should have told me," Santana finished for her, stepping forward and taking the computer before Tina could change her mind. Gruffly she tossed over her shoulder, "see you at work, Chang."

"Santana, wait," Tina chased after her as she barreled towards the front door, she caught up with the woman as her hand fell on the handle, and Tina threw her forearm against it to keep it closed, "Come on, San, don't run out like this. Please, let me—"

"You know I work with him, Tina," Santana didn't face her, keeping her eyes resoundingly on the doorknob, "you know what it's like for me, how hard I've worked to get these people to respect me."

"He does, he respects you so much," Tina was quick to make Santana understand that. "We went out after the photo shoot and all we talked about was you, and how hard you work, and how much we wished people saw you like we did."

Santana could feel a small prickle of tears threaten and she yanked on the door handle trying to let Tina know that she wanted out, now. The last thing she needed was for Mike to see her cry.

"Please, don't leave like this," Tina was almost begging. "Let's try to figure it out."

Santana knew Tina didn't want her to leave while she was angry. She had always been so determined to make sure they never walked away from each other during a fight. Because if she walked away angry she would shut down, and Tina hated that. She sighed slowly through her nose, some of the tension in her shoulders dissipating at the desperate tone in her voice.

"He's a really good guy," Santana's eyes shifted sideways to the woman next to her, "I hope I didn't mess this up for you."

"That's a huge compliment," Tina was honestly surprised, "coming from you."

"Which is another reason I'm so upset," Santana scoffed at herself, "because somehow… I've started caring about his opinion of me more than the rest of them."

"He wouldn't think any less—"

"You don't know that," Santana spoke over her. "I don't know that and I've worked with him for over a year. All I know is that I have to hope that he's not going to spread that shit around the office."

Santana really didn't think Mike would do that, but she hadn't been exactly pleasant just now, so maybe she had ruined any chance she had of getting him to be discreet about it.

"I'll talk to him," Tina moved away from the door, feeling a little better about letting Santana leave now that she wasn't yelling or so angry.

"Don't tell him anything you don't have to," Santana asked as a kindness.

"I won't," Tina teetered on her toes, wringing her hands together.

Santana snorted because she still knew what the woman wanted by her body language after all this time, "Come here."

Tina smiled in relief, and was quick to hug the brunette tightly, "I am so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she shrugged in Tina's arms, "seriously, I guess it was an honest mistake, and I'm glad that you two met."

She was blushing when she pulled away, "Me too."


	33. Chapter 33

Santana was alone in her basement, sitting at her most personal of desks, tucked safely away in her nook. Her knees were drawn up to her chest on her chair, her arms wrapped around them with her chin resting on top. There were four items of significance sitting on her desk; one laptop, one magazine, one cell phone, and one bottle of beer. Santana had only touched one since setting them all down.

She was scared of two of the four objects, and trying to not be dependent on the others. She didn't need to call Brittany for her reassurances, and she didn't need to have more than one beer tonight. She was scared of what she would find on the laptop, she was scared about what she would read in the magazine.

Both of them had the ability to mess up her unstable and perpetually negative self-image. She didn't want to find out that she did a horrible thing with Artie, and she didn't want to realize she didn't live up to her preconceived notions about this article.

Sometimes when you looked in a mirror, you don't like what you see.

The mirrors in front of her were skewed in very different ways, one from hated and the other was touched with a level of caring that Santana was still learning to be comfortable with.

Which mattered more to her right now? A tattered, ruined, friendship? Or possibly the best thing that's ever happened to her, a budding romance with a beautiful woman?

"Just read the article," Santana mumbled to herself, reaching out to take it for the first time.

She leaned back in her chair, resting the magazine on her knees. She liked the picture on the cover. It was something simple; her at the COG speaking to a few coworkers. She wasn't even sure if Brittany had planned it, but the way she was holding her tablet, the Clockwork logo was gleaming in the light like it was an advertisement. She thought it was a small skill on Brittany's part.

She slowly turned the pages, pausing to glance over a few articles that had nothing to do with her. Santana knew she was delaying the inevitable, but she would get to it in her own time. Twenty minutes and a few sips of beer later, she finally got to the article. Santana was initially impressed by the actual amount of words on the pages. Then she remembered that this wasn't an advertisement blurb, this was a piece of journalism.

_Behind the Face of Clockwork._

Santana read through everything with an odd feeling of displacement, like she wasn't really connected to this Santana Lopez person and all of her accomplishments. Brittany had certainly written her like a badass. It was subtle of course, listing all of her accolades like a resume would be tacky, and Santana thought Brittany balanced praising her and writing the facts as they were. Like her previous works, Santana found Brittany's writing to actually be really witty, and she chuckled at how the journalist described the COGS meeting area as the Knights of the Round Table in the kingdom of Clockwork.

She wondered if that made her King Arthur, she damn sure wasn't going to be Sir Robin.

The pictures were maybe the best part of the entire thing. They were so real, none of them were posed, and some of them weren't even while she was at Clockwork. She would have to have a talk with Holly about when Brittany had asked for these. She would have to send the professor a copy of this; she was mentioned at least three times and rightfully cited as a huge influence in Santana's education and success in her years at UCLA and beyond into Berkeley.

Santana found herself reading, and rereading, the entire thing about five times. There were parts that she remembered telling Brittany herself, and parts that she knew Brittany had found out on her own. The few quotes thrown in the mix were always completely relevant and never taken out of context. She loved Brittany for how respectfully this was done. She did, however, pick up on the undertone, and maybe it was just because she understood what was behind it, but there was a definite hint at the resentment between herself and her role in Clockwork's marketing and advertisement.

It was tastefully done and she guessed Brittany's intent was to make the reader question if she really wanted to be a figurehead.

Santana was quite pleased with the result.

* * *

><p>Brittany knew it was completely ridiculous for her to be doing this, she knew that.<p>

After calling it a night with her friends she made it home and promptly threw her clothes in the washer to rid them of any lingering peanut residue immediately. Moments later she jumped in the shower to do the same thing to her body and hair. Brittany knew where she wanted to end up tonight, and it wasn't alone in her apartment. She pulled out her phone as she walked out front door, wishing Lord Tubbington a goodnight as she locked up.

The phone only rang twice before Santana picked it up, _"Hey, B, how'd the celebration go?"_

"Can I come over?"

Santana's tone changed instantly and the light clacking of a keyboard vanished, _"Are you alright?"_

Brittany laughed softly at the concern in Santana's voice, she probably shouldn't have opened with that, "Yeah, San. I'm fine, why?"

She knew why, she just wanted to hear it.

_"I don't know,"_ she seemed to be embarrassed,_ "you went out with your friends... I'm not sure how crazy a bunch of writers can get, but a girl can worry, right?"_

"Yes, and I love that you do... but you don't have to, I don't want to come over 'cause I'm upset or whatever..." Brittany paused, and it was her turn to be embarrassed. "It's late, and you have work again tomorrow, and—"

_"Did you need me to come over? Do you need a ride home?"_

Brittany cringed, realizing Santana had realized that she was a little more than buzzed, "No, I'm already in a cab."

_"Cab to where, B?"_

"Your place?" she squeezed her eyes closed and hoped Santana wouldn't mind.

_"I'm gonna wait on the porch until you get here,"_ there was a light shuffling noise and a smile in the woman's voice when she said it, _"stay on the phone with me, okay?"_

Brittany agreed because she wouldn't have wanted to say goodbye just then anyway. The cab ride was short and she was happy to tell Santana about the dinner celebration when the Latina asked about it. She made sure to not mention Artie's arrival. They would talk about that when she had her head on straight.

Santana met them on the side of the road, and paid the cab driver as Brittany got out of the back seat, protesting, "You don't have to—"

"But I want to," Santana smiled up at her, an amused look in her eye by Brittany's arrival in her pajama's. "Please tell me you didn't go out like that."

"I went home to shower before I came," Brittany slung her overnight bag over her shoulder and watched the cab pull away, "you can't go to that place without being caked in peanut shells."

Santana stepped forward then, delighted that even when she was kind of drunk, Brittany had taken her time to be mindful of her like that. She took Brittany's face in her hands and kissed her softly, "I love you."

"I love you, also."

Santana bit her lip, trying to keep from laughing, because she was pretty sure Brittany wasn't trying to be funny, "Let's go inside."

She took the blonde by the hand and they walked towards the house together.

Brittany leaned over and whispered as they moved through the foyer, "Is Quinn home? I know she boycotted coming out with Rachel tonight because you couldn't go."

"Yeah, she told me," Santana answered, matching Brittany's whisper for fun, "and yes, she's home."

"So... are we breaking the rules?"

Santana snorted, "I don't know... let's be quiet just in case."

"Alright," Brittany nodded seriously. "Were you working?"

"Not really," Santana admitted as they started to move past the basement and towards Santana's bedroom. She had been sitting on the computer, messing around online, stalking Brittany's Facebook, and _not_ touching Tina's old computer. Brittany stopped in the middle of the hall, pulling back on Santana's arm. She looked back, confused, "What's up?"

"You don't have to stop working," Brittany tilted her head back to the basement door, "I'll crash downstairs, you can join when you're done."

"That bed is tiny," Santana tugged on Brittany's arm again, "and you're a really good reason to call it a night."

"Maybe I want a reason to share a tiny bed with you?" Brittany's eyebrows quirked and she tugged Santana into her, wrapping her arms around the woman's waist to hold her close.

She didn't realize how much she had needed Brittany to be holding her until she was in the blonde's arms. Santana buried her face in Brittany's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Are you..." Brittany's voice was cautious, concerned. She held Santana close for a moment, trying to pinpoint what was bothering her, "Are you okay? You seem sad."

"I'm not sad, I'm just... I'm really glad you came over tonight, I..." Santana chuckled, finding herself funny when she said, "I have so many feelings."

Brittany took her by the shoulders and pushed her away just enough so she could see her face. "Come with me, okay?"

Santana nodded and let Brittany lead her downstairs, past her work station, behind the storage units, to the safest, most comforting place she knew in Santana's life. The lamp in the nook was already on and Brittany could tell Santana had already been down here before she had arrived. She led the woman to the bed and they sat down together, Brittany slinging her arm around her waist to keep her close and Santana laid her head on her shoulder.

"Are you mad because I went out and got drunk? I didn't mean to get so—"

"That's not it Britt," Santana looked up, a small smile on her face. "I can handle drunk, and I can handle you going out with your friends, please, I'm not that kinda girl. I just... have a lot on my mind."

Santana had a lot on her mind. The exhibition, things with Mike were about to get tense, she was still kind of miffed at Tina, the feature would publish tomorrow—

Brittany watched Santana's eyes light up suddenly, and she nearly jumped off the bed, her smile contradicting her words, "Fucking shit, Britt!"

"What?" Brittany scrambled for an explanation, still half a step behind, she thought they were sad. Weren't they just sad?

"This," she grabbed the advanced copy of Brittany's feature from her desk and held it up as proof, "was the best thing in the fucking world, the best thing I've ever read."

Brittany's heart nearly stops, her eyes dropping to her hands in her lap. Even if Santana was praising her, she was still nervous. It was the fruits of months of labor, days of editing, and hours laying awake at night worrying. She had needed to do it right, make it worth the faith Santana had put in her, she needed to do Santana justice.

"Oh... you read it?"

Santana walked back to the bed, reaching out to lift Brittany's chin and urge her to meet her eyes, "I read it. I read it and I loved it, Brittany, I loved it."

"You promise?" Brittany asked in a moment of clear self-consciousness. "You're not just saying that to be nice."

"I would never do something like that," Santana chuckled lowly, before leaning just a little further closer, "Brittany, I promise, I'm not just saying that. I loved this, I love you, and I have _never_ been more proud to be in a magazine before."

Brittany didn't know she was crying until Santana was kissing the tears away, "What if... what if the people at Clockwork don't like it?"

"Fuck the people at Clockwork," Santana scoffed, "Brittany, this... this isn't about them anymore."

She wasn't sure she understood so she kept quiet, hoping Santana would elaborate. Santana sat down next to her, her eyes focused on the magazine in her hands, "Britt, yeah, when the idea first popped up, I thought that this was it, this was a way to prove to somebody, somewhere, that I'm worth _something_. Something more than... something more than a few fucking advertisements."

"What's it about now then?" Brittany sniffled, still confused, and emotionally compromised from the alcohol.

Santana kissed her cheek, "You know what your article did?"

Brittany shook her head because she had no idea.

"It made me..." she trailed off because she didn't know how to say all of the things the article inspired in her. "It made me feel good about myself, Britt. It made me feel like I'm worth something... because _I am_, not because other people think so."

Santana thought she finally might be over it. Screw public opinion and the people that thought she was just a figurehead. Screw the people at work that think that very same thing. She wasn't even sure if they really thought that anymore or if she was just so convinced that everyone was out to get her that she's warping the world around her into her own little universe of self-hatred. Whatever the reason, she needed to start looking at things differently.

"Santana, you know I've always thought you are amazing," Brittany licked her lips, "I know that, and Quinn, and Tina do too."

"There's a difference, B," Santana stroked her hair gently, "between hearing other people say it, and believing it for yourself."

"I get that," Brittany nodded slowly, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist and drawing them down onto thebed. Santana was quick to cuddle into her, putting her arms around her neck and kissing her softly. "I'm so glad you liked it."

"I loved it," Santana kissed her, "you're amazing," she kissed her again, "it couldn't have been better. I am so happy."

She leaned over the blonde and smiled, a blissful, honest, smile.

Brittany let out a relieved laugh, finally, truly able to celebrate her work, with her greatest critic satisfied beyond reason, "I am _so_ glad you like it."

"I'm just glad I met you," Santana admitted quietly. "If you hadn't... this never would of happened..."

"It would of happened, San," Brittany held her close, "like, with or without me you would have eventually made someone notice. You're too awesome to not notice."

"I'm glad it was you."

"Me too," Brittany agreed, closing her eyes with a content smile. They laid together for a while, until Santana was sure Brittany had fallen asleep. She jumped a little when Brittany asked, "What else is on your mind? You had sad eyes when I got here."

"Sad eyes?" Santana snorted into Brittany's shoulder.

"Yeah, like, sad."

"It doesn't matter," she kissed Brittany's cheek lightly, "tonight is about you, not my drama."

She watched Brittany's brow furrow, before she said, "But... I want to be a part of your drama. Your drama is my drama, my drama is your drama, we drama together."

Santana propped herself up on her shoulder too get a better look at the blonde, who's eyes were still closed and was falling in and out of sleep. She brushed her hair away from her forehead and whispered, "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, go to sleep now. I love you."

"Mmh," Brittany made a small pouting noise from deep in her chest, her lips puckering.

Santana grinned, taking the hint and kissing her goodnight.

* * *

><p>When Quinn came into the kitchen, she didn't expect to find the refrigerator open and someone shuffling behind it.<p>

"I thought you would have left by now," Quinn looked at the clock.

She had just woken up and was fixing for a cup of coffee before getting ready for the day. She did a double take as she passed the fridge, finding the person behind the door a lot taller and much more blonde than the woman she was expecting.

"Morning," Brittany waved awkwardly with the hand that wasn't holding a bagel.

"Good morning, Brittany," Quinn smiled at the embarrassed look in Brittany's eyes. "Where's Santana?"

"She's still in bed," Brittany closed the door to the refrigerator and took a small bite of the bagel, she was starving.

"Still?" Quinn glanced at the clock again to confirm that her friend was way behind her usual schedule. She glanced back at Brittany, "How did you manage to keep her from going in early?"

"Because I'm awesome," Brittany joked, still half asleep and not really thinking about what she was saying. She flushed when Quinn's eyebrow quirked at her, "I didn't mean it like—we didn't do anything last night. I knew she wouldn't want to when you're in the house, those are, you know, the rules—not that I'm complaining, I was kinda drunk last night—"

"Brittany," Quinn laughed, pulling out a mug for her coffee. The journalist fell silent, running a hand through her hair to calm herself. This was Quinn, Santana's friend, not her mother. She shouldn't be freaking out like this, rules or not, they were grown women and she was allowed to spend the night. Thankfully, Quinn decided to let her rant go without comment, "Do you drink coffee?"

"Yes," she nodded, taking another bite of her bagel to keep herself from talking.

"How do you take it?" Quinn made their coffee as Brittany ate her bagel. "You could have used the toaster, you know."

"I don't normally toast them," Brittany shrugged, "makes the cream cheese melt."

Quinn nodded like she understood, but she didn't, "I never told you how much I loved your article."

"Thanks," Brittany felt her cheeks start to warm again.

"It made me cry, actually," Quinn sent her an embarrassed smile as she handed her a cup of coffee.

"I'm... sorry?" Brittany wasn't sure if that was a compliment. She wanted to take it as one.

"Don't ever be sorry for writing that article," Quinn told her seriously over her own mug. "It was beautiful."

Brittany took a sip of coffee to keep herself from getting too emotional, she wasn't that great at taking compliments about her work, "Drat, _beautiful_ wasn't exactly what I was going for. I was thinking something along the lines of... astounding."

Quinn snorted into her coffee.

"Or epic," Brittany continued with a playful serious tone. "I would have liked to pull off epic."

"Well, it was all of those things," Quinn started filling another mug of coffee, "and then some."

"Santana said she liked it," Brittany admitted, still excited by the thought.

Quinn's eyebrows shot up, "I thought it was going to take her weeks to read it, I was actually planning on bribing her tonight."

"What were you going to bribe her with?" Brittany asked, curious about Santana's vices.

"That new video game just came out," Quinn's eyes shifted to the ceiling as she tried to remember the title, "_Diablo 3_, or something?"

Brittany shrugged because she was no expert and had never heard of it.

"Apparently, it's a big deal," Quinn rolled her eyes, "she had been talking about it with Holly online the other day, I don't think she's had any time to go and get it, though."

"I hope she can find some time to play... I know she has a lot on her plate with the exhibition and she needs some downtime."

"Good thing you like watching her play those stupid things," Quinn smirked, handing her the second cup of coffee that was obviously for Santana, "I'm sure you can convince her to take a night off."

Brittany would accept that challenge wholeheartedly.

* * *

><p>She had woken up when Brittany had left the bed. Knowing she would return, Santana was fine with laying in bed and taking some time to think.<p>

She would have to face Mike today. Last night that article, gave her some sort of euphoric boost of self-esteem... she felt like she could take on the world, like she could walk into Clockwork and own the place instead of walking on eggshells. Santana hoped it lasted.

Calling Tina today was a must, she needed to make sure her friend knew she was... fine with what happened. Well, as much as she could be. She had told Tina what she wanted to hear to get out of the house, and honestly, she couldn't stay mad at the woman if her life depended on it. She wondered if she would get that way with Brittany.

Maybe she was already there.

A noise brought her out of her thoughts; soft, barefooted, steps walking towards her. She laid still, listening.

"I know you're awake."

She could hear the smile in Brittany's voice and she peeked one of her eyes open, unable to keep herself from the guilty smirk on her face, "You learn quick."

"So you tell me," Brittany set a cup of coffee down on her desk and paused, for the first time noticing the broken laptop. "Ooo, what happened here?"

Santana's stomach twisted as Brittany touched the corner of the screen, her finger tracing the fractured glass carefully. Having someone, anyone, Brittany of all people, touch that laptop put her on edge.

"It was thrown out a third story window," Santana explained from behind her, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face.

"What? Really?" Brittany wasn't sure if she was joking or not, the computer sure did look like it had seen better days. "Who would do something like that?"

"Tina," Santana said quietly, honestly. "Tina threw it out her window after watching the video of me and Artie."

Brittany's hand jerked back as if she had been burned. She looked at Santana with a disbelieving expression, "You... you got it from her?"

"Yeah, last night," Santana watched her face carefully.

"That's why you were sad last night," Brittany fidgeted with her coffee mug before saying, "I feel upstaged... can I throw it on some train tracks or something?"

Santana cracked a smile, "When I'm finished with it, I'll give you a bat and you can do whatever you want with it."

"What do you mean?"

"I was..." Santana's smile faded, "I was going to try to get the video off of it."

"You _were_, maybe, when you went over there to get it... but you don't want to anymore."

Brittany said it with such a conviction and certainty to her voice that Santana was surprised.

"I don't?" she wondered if this was Brittany's way of telling her she didn't agree with trying to watch the footage.

"No, I don't think you want to," Brittany shut the laptop with definitive sort of click. The broken reflection of herself in the screen made her skin crawl, she took a long breath before continuing, "if you wanted to see it you would have already done it. You wouldn't have let anything distract you from it. You're very particular like that, Santana. If you want something done, you let few things distract you from getting it."

"I think reading your article and having you come over was a pretty justifiable distraction," she argued for arguments sake. Better that than to admit she was too scared to try to find the footage.

"Santana, you don't want to watch that video, just like everyone that cares for you doesn't want you to."

"You don't know that I—"

"Tell me you do," Brittany sent her a level look, "tell me you want to see _that_ and I'll believe it. I'll even sit here with you and hold your hand through the whole thing."

Santana opened her mouth but the words never came. She didn't want to watch it. She didn't want anything to do with it. She wished she could just forget it ever happened. She thought that watching it would give her closure, but now she was just afraid of what she would find.

"I think it scares you," Brittany said softly, knowing Santana would become defensive as soon as she said it. "You have so, so much guilt about everything, San, but you don't need to watch it to prove that it's not your fault or that you're not to blame."

She blinked towards the ceiling, trying to hold back tears.

"You feel better, though... right?"

She didn't know what Brittany was talking about, "About what?"

"You feel better now that you have this," Brittany glanced at the computer and set her coffee down next to Santana's forgotten cup. She walked towards the bed with open arms and Santana clung to her waist as soon as it was within reach, pulling Brittany onto the bed with her.

"It's like those magazines you keep upstairs," Brittany thought hard for the right words, "it's some sort of... physical representation of the parts of you that people have stolen. You collect them, and lock them away, nice and safe to like... comfort yourself somehow. Try to take back ownership of it."

Santana could feel her shoulders shaking, pressing her face against Brittany's chest to find a better sense of comfort than an obsessive magazine hording habit.

"Now, you can lock this away too," Brittany whispered into her hair, hoping Santana would take her advice, "and never let it ruin your day again."

"It's not that simple, Brittany."

"But it can be," she held her tighter, "please, let it be that simple."

Santana grasped at Brittany's shirt, steadying herself.

"Remember all that stuff you said last night," she continued softly, "about how you were feeling so good about yourself, like no one else mattered anymore."

Santana nodded, because she had said that. She tried to rekindle that feeling, the power Brittany had inspired in her. She tried to remember some of Brittany's words from the article, the tales of her successes, the things she had accomplished.

All with a heart filled with bitterness and spite.

She needed to start letting that go, because she needed to start making room for the love Brittany was offering her so readily. The self-worth she was trying to teach her how to feel. Santana took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the smell of Brittany's shirt like it would fill her soul with the lighthearted attitude Brittany was able to live by.

"You're right, they don't matter," she mumbled into Brittany's warm body, "it doesn't matter, he doesn't matter. You're the only one that matters, Brittany."

She can feel Brittany chuckling quietly, a comforting rumbling against her ear, "I hope not, Quinn, Tina, and Kurt will be kinda mad if that were true."

There it was again, Brittany reminding her that there were people out there that loved her. Respected her. Meant the world to her. She was ready to start living up to that.

"You're going to be late if you stay in bed any longer," Brittany had to say it because she knew Santana's work was important.

"What about you?" Santana asked, not wanting to leave the safety of Brittany's arms. "Shouldn't you have left by now?"

"Rachel told me I didn't have to come in today, part of being an accomplished journalist, you know."

She felt herself smile, "I think Clockwork can live without me for a few hours."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't mind going in with you this morning," Brittany offered.

"If I'm going to spend a morning with you," Santana sat up a little, brushing the moisture off her face and giving the blonde an adoring look, "I'd rather spend it right here."

Brittany lifted her head, matching her smile and kissing the woman, "I would be flattered that you're choosing me over work, but I know you're just trying to avoid going to work after people read the article."

Santana blushed, as she said, "Those people don't mean shit to me, remember?"

"Nothing?" Brittany asked only kind of seriously.

"I'm working on it," Santana caught onto her genuine concern, knowing that this wouldn't happen overnight, "this is progress, right?"

"Most decidedly," Brittany tugged her closer, kissing her forehead, "a step in the right direction."

* * *

><p>An hour turned into two, then rolled into three, and Santana wasn't really concerned.<p>

Sure, she was putting off dealing with Mike, and the reaction to the feature, but she was here, with Brittany and starting to get hungry. Was it really close to time for lunch? From her spot laying on top of the woman, her head resting at the top of Brittany's stomach, her hips snuggled between the blonde's legs, she could hear Brittany's heartbeat faintly. The slow and steady breathing pattern was more prominent but no less comforting.

She could listen to the woman live for the next forever.

A glaringly unnatural noise broke through the beautiful cadence that was Brittany's organic structure. Santana glanced at her phone. She didn't want to answer it, she didn't want to do anything but lay with Brittany and breathe. Brittany grabbed the small device off her desk and looked at the screen. Her eyebrows rose a little, "I think you want to get this one."

"I don't care who it is," Santana slid her hands up Brittany's sides, tucking her hands under the back of her ribs. Kurt had already called twice, Mike had called once, and Quinn had left a voice mail to tell her that people loved the article. "No one else matters."

"It's Holly Holiday."

Brittany laughed at how quickly Santana's hand reached up to grab the phone.

"I told you," she mumbled to herself with and amused smile.

Santana sent her a playful eye roll and answered the phone call, "Hey, Holly."

"_Santana Lopez, how quickly can you get a hold of that writer girlfriend of yours?"_

Santana's eyes shifted over to the blonde, she wasn't sure if Brittany could hear her old professor, "Pretty quickly, why?"

"_The next time you see her,"_ Holly sounded happily serious when she said, _"ask that woman to marry you."_

"You're an idiot," Santana rolled her eyes, blushing when Brittany's bashful smile let her know that she could hear everything Holly was saying.

"_Call me what you like, but even an idiot could tell that she cares about you. I just finished reading her article on you—for the third time, and I swear the love is just flying off the page."_

"How did you get a copy?" Santana blinked. "You're on the other side of the country."

"_You didn't send this to me?"_ Holly sounded confused. _"It showed up this morning in an overnight envelope."_

"No, it just hit stands this morning," as the idea hit her, she looked over at Brittany, "the only people that could have sent it last night would have been someone that worked there, and could have gotten a hold of an advanced copy."

Brittany bit her lip avoiding Santana's quizzical eyes.

"_Do you think it was Brittany?"_

"Yeah, I do," Santana said shortly and Brittany only blushed deeper.

"_I'll have to thank her,"_ Holly continued, _"you never let me geek out about your awesome the way I want to. Like that time you won that software competition at Berkeley and didn't even flippen tell me. I had to find out from Linda in the Engineering Department."_

"Yeah, I know how much you hate finding out about things from Linda," Santana agreed teasingly. "Total travesty."

"_Don't even start with me about that woman."_

"Don't worry, I have better things to do with my time than listen to you bitch about your department rivalry."

Holly snorted at her snark and moved on to more important things, _"This article is seriously such a compliment, Santana. She really put her time into making sure everyone knows how great you are, like, she was able to slip in your qualifications in without making out to be some lame scheme for attention. What did you think?"_

"I loved it," she met Brittany's eyes, "I loved everything about it."

"_Santana, you need to tell her how much you appreciate it._ _It's seriously love in the form of literature._"

"I will, soon."

"_Good… I'm so proud of you, Santana."_

Santana's dropped from Brittany's instantly, her expression slipping into a flash of vulnerability, incredibly touched by the praise, but unwilling to show how much it meant to her. Holly seemed to be expecting her silence.

"_Reading this made me remember the girl that walked into my Intro to Robotics class years ago," _Holly chuckled on the other end, _"you were so determined to hate everything about it, so stubborn about being a doctor."_

"That really worked out for me," Santana scratched her nose self-consciously.

"_Things turned out pretty well, I would like to think."_

"Yeah," this time Santana couldn't keep the smile off her face, "me too."

Brittany laid with Santana for a few more minutes, listening to her reminisce with the woman she respected the most. When Santana finally got off the phone her eyes were shining with a sense of pride that Brittany was sure only Holly could inspire.

"Why did you send her a copy of the article?" Santana asked quietly, setting her phone on the bed carelessly.

"I was sending one to my mom," Brittany shrugged absently, "because that's what I do when I'm proud of something, show my mom. Then she always tells me how proud she is of me and… it's a good feeling, you know? I wanted you to have that too... I thought Holly could give it to you."

Santana just stared at her for a long moment and Brittany started to worry at she had done something wrong.

"You sent Holly a copy of the article on the off chance that she would call me up and tell me she was proud of me?"

"I sent it to Holly because she cares about you, and I care about you, and that's what people do when they care about someone, they brag about their accomplishments and want everyone to know that they're great," Brittany slipped her fingers under Santana's arms and tugged gently, urging her closer. When Santana finally scooted up her body, Brittany leaned over to kiss her nose. "You're great Santana, Holly knows it, I know it, and we love you for it."

Santana was sure that even if Holly didn't know it yet, she might have given her the last bit of life coaching she would need. This woman, this journalist, Brittany S. Pierce, was something special.


	34. Chapter 34

If she didn't know that it was because of Brittany's published feature, and the magazine venders staked outside the building were a blatant reminder to that fact, Santana would have thought she had grown two heads by the way people were looking at her.

She walked into the lobby of Clockwork and swore everyone in it froze just to take a gander.

There was something different about their eyes this time. She noticed it as she walked by, head up and shoulders back. They were looking at her with an odd sense of... awe. It reminded her of the way people looked at modern art. It could be way above their comprehension level, but they would still stare at it with that same thoughtful expression, hoping that everyone else thought they were intelligent enough to get it.

They could stare all they want, they'll never get it.

She continued past them and they parted in her wake.

Her maintenance hallway was a breath of fresh air, Santana had to put her hand on the wall to catch her breath and ground herself.

This was it, she had been exposed.

Santana straightened herself, pulling down the hem of her blazer, and swept her hair over her shoulder. She wasn't about to freak out, she was determined to handle this with all the poise that Brittany had credited her with. Come hell or high water, she was going to walk onto the floor and conduct herself with every bit of the expertise and professionalism that she usually did.

Her elevator made it to her floor and she entered the COG. That odd sensation happened again, namely everyone's heads turning towards her. She cursed herself for not showing up when the floor was clear for lunch. Santana even caught some of the guys holding the magazine, reading it at their desks as their friends stood around talking about usual things.

Or her.

"Did you know she studied with Holly Holiday?"

"Yeah, the one that patented that new software for network security programs."

"I heard she made a killing by selling it to the government."

"I heard Lopez was her teacher's aid when she was developing it."

"You think she got in the mix?"

"What, are you kidding me? Have you ever seen her back down from an opportunity? Remember when she convinced Clockwork to donate equipment for wireless networks and computers to high schools? Kids were taking typing lessons and getting familiar with our products in grade school so when they finally wanted their own laptops, guess what brand they wanted? Our sales in those areas nearly doubled, I read the marketing report."

"No shit?"

Santana ducked into her office before the ones that missed her arrival turned around.

"Oh, you decided to show yourself?" Kurt greeted her from the couch, a smile on his face. A copy of _The Lead_ was resting on the cushion next to him.

"Yeah," she nodded, eying the magazine, "How'd you like Britt's article? The girl can sure write."

"I loved it, you can expect it to be on your display by the end of the day," he joked, waving to the bookshelf with her other cover shots.

"Take the rest down," she set her computer bag down and started getting ready to play catch up. "I don't want those up anymore."

He made a note of her serious tone and nodded, "I'll take care of it."

"Thanks."

"Also, Mike has been checking in every half hour to see if you've come in yet," he told her, missing the way her shoulders tensed at the news, "I think he's freaking out about the exhibition stuff."

"Hm," Santana sat at her desk and started checking her email.

"He's been hold up in the lab downstairs after the morning's COG," he continued, "you should probably go find him and put his mind at ease."

"I'll have to do that," Santana mumbled, not looking forward to it at all.

* * *

><p>She had promised Santana that she would stop into the office sometime today, which was really as soon as she went home to feed Lord Tubbington, shower, and change. The lobby of Clockwork was as active as ever, she recognized a few people and waved hello as they greeted her. Some of them even told her how much they enjoyed reading the article this morning. She took their compliments gracefully, making sure they knew that Santana was the one that did the real work. She loved the subtle reverence they held in their eyes when she brought up the Head of IT, she hoped Santana was seeing the same thing.<p>

Brittany was just about to pass the main reception desk, pondering if she should take the main elevators or Santana's for nostalgia's sake, when a security guard stepped in front of her.

"Miss Pierce?"

"Um," she felt her stomach tighten. Was Jesse St. James up to no good again? Was Santana alright? "Yeah, that's me."

He looked a little regretful, "I've been asked to escort you to the executive suite upon arrival, ma'am."

"For what?" Brittany started shifting towards his left, as if she just might make a break for the service elevators, "Who wants to talk to me?"

He took a step to match hers, blocking her escape and letting her know that he was determined to get her to the place she needs to go. "Ma'am, I'm only doing what I've been told, please—"

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who you're taking me to," Brittany's eyes narrowed, she knew the rules, he couldn't put a hand on her. She could turn around and walk out of the building then call Santana. Santana would know what to do.

"Ma'am, I don't know who want's to talk to you," he admitted, "only where they want to talk to you if you should show up in the building."

"I want to speak to Santana Lopez, I'm not going anywhere in this building without her," she told him sternly. She was already pulling out her phone. "Either take me to her or get out of my face."

"Ma'am, I've been instructed to not let you have any contact with Miss Lopez or Miss Fabray."

"You're kidding me, right?" Brittany scoffed as she ignored his request, thumb working across the screen of her phone until a strong hand wrapped around hers, phone and all, keeping her from hitting the call button. "Get off of—"

Brittany's anger transformed into a betrayed confusion, she recognized this man, wasn't he someone that Santana had some sort of friendly agreement with?

"Puckerman?"

He let go of her hand, holding them up in a nonthreatening gesture, "Please don't call Lopez, Brittany, please."

"What's all this about?" her thumb hovered over the call button, ready if she didn't like his answer.

"Look," he waved off the security guard that had stopped her first, "someone wants to talk to you about the article you wrote. It has nothing to do with the shit St. James pulled last week."

"You knew about that and you didn't tell anyone?" she felt even more betrayed and a little angry. Her and Rachel had been walking into Jesse St. James' trap and if she hadn't of had the foresight to use the service elevator it would have worked.

"I didn't know until after the fact," Puckerman looked just as angry as she did and it made her believe him, "that dick went to my guys and made it worth their while, trust me, they're not around anymore."

"So," she glanced around as if Jesse St. James would be lurking in the shadows, "who what's to talk to me if it's not St. James?"

She had an idea about who wanted to talk to her. She just didn't think it would happen like this. Brittany was cursing herself, she was such an impulsive idiot, what had she done now? What kind of crap did she cause this time?

"Someone much more important," he took a step towards the elevators. "You gotta trust me, I'm not trying to screw you or Lopez over. She has enough people trying to do that."

"I would still rather have Santana with me," Brittany admitted, hesitating for a moment longer before she fell into step with him. She needed to face this, she needed to be brave, for Santana. "You're not going to tell me what this is about?"

"I don't know what it's about," he told her honestly, "all I know is that there's a lot of parking spots that are going to be missing their _reserved for_ plaques by the end of the day."

Brittany stopped dead in her tracks, causing a small traffic jam as they entered the elevator, "She's getting fired?"

"What? No!" he assured her, escorting her into the maintenance hallway. She wasn't sure if they were taking that route for her comfort, or for the privacy it offered so he could say, "A bunch of crazy crap went down this morning, half the board of directors were dismissed before lunch, all the people up in corporate have gone crazy."

That didn't make Brittany feel any better. She didn't want anyone to get fired, even if they were part of the corporate system that had been making Santana's life a living hell. The ride in the elevator was long and tense. Brittany's mind was going a mile a minute trying to anticipate what was about to happen. They hit their floor, one of the highest in the building. The doors opened and Puckerman stepped out, but Brittany stayed put.

"What's wrong?" he asked as a courtesy, he knew what was wrong.

She was nervous, "I want Santana with me."

"She can't be with you, she's not supposed to know you're here," he put his hand on the doorframe to keep the doors from closing. "But I got the feeling that this is going to help her out. You want to help her right?"

Of course she wanted to help her. That had been her mission from the beginning of this whole thing.

Brittany took a steadying breath and shook her hands at her sides. If she was going to do this she was going to do it with as much grace as she could muster. If Santana could walk into a convention hall and face all of the people that thought she was just a model, she could face this. She had caused this problem all on her own after all.

Finally, she stepped out from the elevator and asked, "Can I just text her to let her know I'm going to be late? I promised that I would meet her."

His eyes softened and he tried to hide a smile, "Yeah, sure."

Brittany was quick about it, _"San, I got caught up doing some last minute stuff about the feature. I'll call you when I'm done, hopefully it won't take long. I love you, so much."_

She slipped her phone back into her purse and nodded to Puckerman, "I'm ready."

* * *

><p>Santana frowned at the text message in her inbox. Truth be told, she had been glancing at the clock periodically for the last half an hour. Brittany hadn't said she would be right over, but she had implied it.<p>

Santana sent of a quick, _"I love you too, take your time, don't worry about it."_

Since a distracting visit from Brittany wasn't in the foreseeable future, Santana decided that it was time to face Mike. She gathered up her tablet and told Kurt she would be in the lab. She couldn't say that her posture was very welcoming when she walked in with a swift stride and a cold look in her eyes. She didn't even glance his way, she just walked right on by and sat at her usual station across from him. He tried to say something about reading that article and she cut him off with a question about his progress on work.

He took the hint and they fell into stiff silence.

She wasn't very proud of herself for giving him one hell of a cold shoulder, but her defensive nature was on high alert and for all she knew he could turn into another Artie. She would hate it that happened. A part of her knew that treating him like this wasn't going to keep that from happening, and she wished she had better people skills. She wished she was better at letting people in, let people care about her.

Twenty minutes later, he was staring at her.

She could feel it. Even across a table, with every ounce of focus directed to the computer in front of her, she could feel it. She refused to look up from her work, refused to have this conversation, refused to let him dredge up all the shit Brittany was trying to get her to put to rest.

But... what was he thinking about?

What kind of judgment was he condemning on her?

Her hands froze over the keyboard as her eyes lifted to his, Mike had the decency to look away. It didn't last long before he was looking right back at her, opening his mouth to say something. Again, Santana didn't have the courtesy to let him speak.

"You need to stop staring at me."

"I'm trying to work up the courage to talk to you," he said quietly, and there was a gentle quality in his voice that should have been comforting, but Santana's short temper took offense to how he wanted to be kind to her.

She wasn't a charity case, she didn't need his pity.

"If it's about anything other than work," she told him shortly, her eyes daring him to keep this up, "I don't want to hear it."

"Don't shut me out, San—"

"Don't presume to think that just because I kept myself in check for Tina's sake it means that I'm over this," Santana's anger was obvious in her eyes.

"I didn't mean to—"

_"Oh,"_ Santana picked up a pen, holding it tightly in her fist, and tilting the point threateningly in his direction, "so you didn't mean to stand in her kitchen and listen to our conversation like a compete creeper, you didn't fucking mean for that to happen_._"

"I was surprised that you had shown up," Mike's eyes fell to his desk, "and by the time I got over trying to figure out if you were going to be mad that I took one of your friends out on a date, you guys were already talking about all that... stuff. I didn't know what to do, I panicked."

Santana held the pen even tighter.

She didn't want to have this conversation. She didn't want to have to explain herself to him, go back to that hurtful place and try to make him see that it wasn't her fault, she had been the victim. A larger part of her wanted to have this conversation, just so she could do all of those things, and make sure that he knew all of that. She wanted him to understand because she didn't want him to think any less of her, and that might happen if he knew she was a victim.

"I'm so pissed at you," Santana held his eyes with a dark smoldering stare, "because you were one of the five people in this company I never had to worry about judging me. You've always been really cool about shit like that, Mike. Now all of that is shit because all I can think about when I look at you is what you overheard, and what you might be thinking about me."

"I'm not thinking any less of you—"

"Don't give me that feel good lovey shit," Santana took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "People don't—you can't hear about something like that and not look at me differently."

"Differently, yeah," he said quietly, "you know how many times I've seen you and Abrams go at it at conventions? How many times I've watch him kick you below the belt and _every single time_ you find it in yourself to walk away? I thought you were just classy, but now..."

She swallowed harshly, keeping her eyes pinched closed and hidden behind her hand.

"Santana, you're... man, I thought I looked up to you before, now it's like..."

"How much did Tina tell you?" she asked from a dry throat.

"Enough to know that if I was in your shoes I wouldn't have been able to walk away when Abrams talks trash," Mike admitted. "I'm not even sure I'm going to be able to do it if I hear it again."

Santana glanced up to the ceiling, blinking a few times to keep her eyes dry. The weight on her chest since she had left Tina's house lifted in a great sigh. She dropped her pen next to her keyboard and let a breath out slowly through her nose, "While I appreciate the sentiment, I can handle Abrams myself."

"I know," he raised his hands in an accepting gesture, he knew she didn't need his help, she had been handling Artie for a while, "but if you ever need any backup..."

"If I ever need someone to hold my earrings before I beat the shit out of a jerk in a wheelchair, you'll be the one hand them off to," she laughed shortly, shaking her head at the ridiculous image in her head.

"Can we," he tapped on a few of his keys nervously, "not let this be a big deal?"

"I would like that," Santana nodded, relieved.

A lightheartedness was coming back into her eyes and Mike smiled, glad that the tension was fading. He decided to drop the subject and made an easy transition to the Brittany's article. He wanted to talk about some of the things she had done and people she had studied with, but all she wanted to talk about was how great Brittany's writing was. Eventually they fell back into their work until Santana had to ask the question on her mind.

"Are you going to see her again?"

"Tina?" Mike looked up from his work with a slightly cautious expression.

Santana didn't make a comment because the answer was obvious and Mike looked embarrassed.

"Would that…" he rubbed the back of his neck, "would that be a problem?"

"Only if you don't treat her right," Santana eyed him and he nodded under her scrutiny. "I've already... told her that I approve."

He seemed to be pleased at that comment, and ducked his head to try and hide his smile, "I really appreciate that, I know she was really worried that you would... flip out or whatever."

Santana didn't blame Tina for worrying at all.

"You're a good man, Mike," Santana told him sincerely and he knew it was a big deal.

He hesitated for a moment before asking, "So… are you and Brittany…?"

He trailed off and the question hung in the air.

"That's a really inappropriate question."

They never really did talk about their personal lives, and after what happened at Tina's place he had worried that she would shut him out entirely. Mike looked up, worried that he had crossed the line again, but Santana's serious tone didn't match the small smirk on her face. She had been joking, playing with him. Mike was glad that at least some things were back to normal.

"And yes," she turned back to her work, "we are."

"She's a sweet girl," Mike followed her lead and turned back to his computer, "it was really nice working with her while she was here."

"It was," Santana sighed again, missing the woman that should be sitting next to her with a notebook and twenty questions. "It was nice."

* * *

><p>Brittany was escorted into an office that made Santana's look like a broom closet. She sat in one of the two chairs across from the larger than necessary desk. Really, no one could ever need that much desk space, but the wood was dark and rich and the chair behind it was high-backed and kind of dramatic and it seemed to fit the large space of the office well enough.<p>

Whoever was supposed to be speaking with her wasn't available yet so she waited, drumming her fingers on her thighs and wondering how she got herself into these messes. It had seemed like such a great idea at the time.

She wanted to pull out her phone and read Santana's reply, but she didn't want to get caught on her phone. If there was any risk of angering this person with the power to fire Santana, she wouldn't take it.

When the large doors opened Brittany stood quickly, trying her best to be confident, she knew it wasn't quite working out. Barring the mild streaks of gray littered into her short blonde hair, the woman striding in was identical to the photos Brittany came across in her research on Clockwork. This woman was much more important, and much more powerful, than Jesse St. James.

After making it to Brittany's chair, she held out her hand, "Brittany Pierce, it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Mrs. Sylvester," Brittany matched her firm handshake with a confidence she didn't know she had. There was something in the woman's eyes that was putting her at ease.

"Now, sit down, we have a lot to talk about," she gestured to the seat and made her own way around her desk. She sat in the large chair and donned a pair of rectangle framed glasses as she fussed around with the papers on her desk. "I'm not going to insult your intelligence, you know who I am."

"I do," Brittany nodded, crossing her legs to be comfortable and to look at ease, like she wasn't sitting in front of the largest share holder, owner, and CEO of Clockwork Technologies.

"And you know why you're here," she glanced up from the papers to peer at Brittany from over her glasses.

"I have an idea."

"You have an idea," she repeated and Brittany couldn't quite interpret her tone. "You have an idea and I have a question."

Brittany watched the woman opened a drawer and take out a priority envelope with her own handwriting on it.

"Did your publication send me this copy of your article on Miss Lopez?"

"No, I was the one that sent it to you," Brittany said it before she could hesitate.

"Why would you send me a copy of this?" she seemed genuinely curious if not a little skeptical of Brittany's motives.

In retrospect, Brittany probably should have thought really hard about the answer to that question before she had sent it. She answered honestly, "I thought you should know how great Miss Lopez is at her job."

"You think I don't know that?"

"If you do know that," Brittany licked her lips, unsure, "then I'm not sure why you're letting this company make her out to be a fool."

She didn't take the offense that Brittany had expected, instead, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs to match Brittany's, "You'll need to explain that idea to me Miss Pierce. I picked up a hint of the same sentiment in your article."

"This company has made a joke of that woman," Brittany wasn't sure if this was what she wanted to hear but she was going to say it anyway. "You've objectified her, cut her down; let a chauvinistic pig degrade her, and allow—even _promote,_ public opinion to see her as nothing more than an marketing ploy."

The woman's face didn't give anything away so Brittany continued.

"I've been working with the IT Department for last three months. I've spent _three months_ shadowing Santana Lopez. I've been to the conventions and I've seen people brush her off like she's an actress talking off a script. I've been to the photo shoots and seen how degraded she feels after dressing up to fit an image she doesn't agree with. I've been in this company and overheard the lewd comments, I've seen the looks people give her, and I've witnessed how readily the people in marketing are willing to manipulate her for their own needs, and somehow, despite all of that," Brittany's hand cut exasperatedly through the air, a little agitation at Santana's situation seeping past her professional posture. "After hours in her computer labs, hours at the gym to be camera read, and hours spent prepping for presentations she hates, she still runs that department flawlessly."

Brittany knew she was crossing a line when she said, "And without an ounce of gratitude from you people. Sometimes I still can't understand how she could still want to be a part of this company, let alone work as hard as she does for it."

She should have felt a little embarrassed after she finished her rant, but all of that needed to be said, and to someone with the power to change it. This is why she had sent Sylvester the article, to get her to notice it. Notice Santana and her situation.

"You're telling me that doesn't like being in the spotlight."

It wasn't a question, it was an observation. The woman tapped her fingers on the desk and looked as if she had never considered the possibility before.

"She's never wanted it," Brittany confirmed. She wished she knew what was going on in the woman's head. Did she bring Brittany here to clear that up? And now that she knew the truth, what would she do about it?

Sylvester stood from her desk, not looking at Brittany as she moved towards the large expanse of windows. She stood next to the wall of glass, letting her hands fall into the pockets of her slacks and sighed.

"Years ago, around the time Lopez was initially hired… my husband, the original owner of this company, well, he died," Sue Sylvester started talking quietly. "Understandably, I went into a period of grief that rivaled the destructive force of a black hole. Disgracefully, it kept me from doing my duties as the inherited owner of this company. I appointed my control to a board of directors that were supposed to keep things in check until I returned. Until this year I honestly hadn't had the motivation to."

Brittany had known that part of her story. She discovered it when she was trying to figure out how the owner of this company was a woman, and she's just been letting Santana be objectified the entire time.

"Sure, I would check in every once in a while, I would read the reports, listen to the progress briefs, but it was just a depressing reminder of my husband's death," she looked around and Brittany realized that this was her late husband's office. "The board of directors and executives that took charge in my absence were… disgusting businessmen that ruined my husband's legacy. Our stocks plummeted and so many strong leaders defected to Orbit or other companies."

She gave a short laugh, "That probably gave Lopez the opportunity to move up so quickly, but opportunistic young talents aside; it made me violently ill to even look our logo. I wanted nothing to do with this place. I went from being hands off to being completely out of the picture and things just got worse."

"Why did you..." Brittany started quietly, "Why did you come back? And why are firing everyone?"

"Trimming the fat, Miss Pierce," she glanced over her shoulder, a smirk on her face. "This place has gotten pretty hefty since I've been gone. I can't have that, the cellulite is another thing that makes me violently ill, I wont tolerate it anywhere near me."

She wanted to take back her company and Brittany was impressed, she hoped that every one of the people getting dismissed was someone responsible for making this company the toxic work environment that it was.

"About six months ago," Sylvester continued more seriously, "an old friend of mine emailed me, congratulating me on beating Orbit in latest Fortune 500 listing. They were congratulating me as if I had something to do with it, as if I was a part of that. I wasn't. I was, however, curious about who was responsible for such a thing."

Brittany wanted to smile, because she knew who she would blame for it.

"Santana Lopez was the name I kept running into; she who seemingly turned back time and restored Clockwork to a shadow of it's former glory," she snorted, amused with herself.

In a blink the amusement was gone and she was quiet for a moment before continuing in a softer voice, "You think I'm a horrible person for letting her be used as an icon for this company, but can you blame me for not realizing that she's _the one_ in the millions of women who would jump at the chance to be a household name?"

She truly didn't understand.

"Thousands of women would kill to be _used_ as a pretty face. Hundreds would pretend to be rocket scientists if it meant they could be on the number of magazine covers that she's been plastered all over. We live in the age of Snookis and Lohans and who the hell doesn't want to be famous?"

Brittany had to admit, plenty of woman wanted that chance, just not Santana.

"So this," she gestured to Brittany like she was the personification of Santana's ideals, "reading this, and realizing that the savior of my company has been hating it the entire time… I thought we were giving her every woman's dream; the job, the glitz, the glam, but… she's been in a living hell," she turned back to the window, shaking her head, solemly disappointed in herself for allowing this to happen.

"She loves her work," Brittany told her, "if it means anything, she loves the work she does here. She has such a insane amount of pride for it too."

If it meant anything, Sylvester didn't let is show, she just kept watching the skyline.

"The real reason that I've asked you here is because I want to know who's responsible for this," she looked Brittany square in the eye. "I know you're close enough to Lopez that you know the real story, the story you couldn't publish for politics sake. I'm not stupid, there's more to this than meets the eye."

Brittany dropped her eyes and gave herself away.

"You have the opportunity to tell me who is the one that's caused all of this, I've fired enough people today that no one will think twice about me adding a few more names to the list."

Brittany licked her lips again, "That's the thing… she wouldn't have let it happen if she wasn't… forced into it."

Sylvester's eyebrows quirked, "She's being blackmailed?"

Brittany nodded to confirm the assumption.

She felt conflicted, knowing Santana would have reservations about drawing attention to the deal she had cut with Jesse St. James. Santana only had the upper hand because Jesse had something to lose while he was working here, if Sylvester fired him it might give Jesse an excuse to release what he had on Santana.

"That's a difficult situation," she mused, glancing out the window again, "you'll have to trust me to handle it."

Brittany wrung her hands together, nervous and tempted, "I…"

"Miss Pierce, give me this chance, to do right by the only woman that's been looking out for this company, even when she had absolutely no reason to."

"I have... another version of the feature," she hoped that this wouldn't come back hurt them, she was only trying to help, "one with everything, it's the real story. I could email it to you."

"You do that," she turned from the window and made it back to her desk, rummaging around for a business card with her email address on it so she could give it to the journalist. "And of course, you realize that this is to stay between us. I know you're close to Lopez and Miss Fabray from the PR Department."

Brittany wasn't sure how much her blush gave away, but if she noticed, Mrs. Sylvester didn't comment.

"I have my eye on them both," she continued, "and the people they work with, although, that Mike Chang is never endorsing this company with a photo shoot again; people have been asking if we've been bought out by China. I think it's about time for our IT developers to focus on the computers, and not the cameras."

Clockwork was in for a tune up.

* * *

><p>When she heard the door open, before she even looked up, before she even heard her say, "There you are."<p>

Santana knew it was Brittany.

She could feel it in the air, the way the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, the way her foot shifted from her stool to the ground so she would be ready to stand up and return the hug that she knew was coming. Brittany's eyes skated to Mike, in greeting and to gauge if Santana minded his presence before she got too close.

She was always so conscious of Santana's boundaries, her workplace OCD. It was a courtesy that melted Santana's heart and certainly earned Brittany a little affection. She could tell the blonde was surprised when she stood fully and opened her arms, but there wasn't a moment of hesitation before she stepped into them. Santana held her close, because a few hours really was too long.

Lowly, and so Mike couldn't hear she whispered, "I missed you."

Brittany chuckled into her hair, silently agreeing, "How's work been?"

"Ugh," Santana pulled away, just enough to see Brittany's face, happy to lean against the desk in this woman's arms. This was a step in the right direction; being able to be a couple in front her coworkers, and letting Mike know that he was a trusted person in her life. "I have so many loose ends running around it's not even funny."

"You'll be able to tie them up," after making sure Mike couldn't see her hand, Brittany rubbed her thumb along the waist of Santana's skirt, "you always do."

Santana's lips quirked into a smile at the confidence in Brittany's voice. She had so much unconditional confidence in Santana's capabilities that it was more than flattering. She made Santana feel like she could take on anything, like all the problems around her were easy enough to work out, and she didn't have to worry.

"In cute little bows, too," Brittany teased, her eyes on the smiling lips below her.

"Whatever," Santana scoffed, refusing to turn her ability to solve problems and tie up loose ends into some sort of metaphor about ribbons and bows.

Brittany just laughed at her and pinched her side affectionately, "What are we doing tonight?"

It was assumed that they would be spending it together and Santana loved it.

"I want to make you dinner," Santana bit her lip, "then maybe we could just watch a movie or something, hang out, relax. You've worked so hard on this feature, Britt, let me pay you back a little."

"You know you don't have to," Brittany said softly, in a voice that was entirely too intimate and if Mike hadn't gotten the idea by now, Brittany would suggest a trip to the optometrist. She had the feeling he was taking a hint by the way he was packing his things.

"But I would love to," Santana's eyes kept shifting from Brittany's eyes to her lips and Brittany wasn't sure how much longer she could stand so close to her without kissing the brunette.

"Then it's a plan," Brittany wouldn't deny Santana the chance to do something for her, she knew the woman loved the feeling. "How much longer are you going to be here?"

"I'll see you two later," Mike threw over his shoulder as he headed towards the door.

"Not much," Santana admitted now that Mike's back was turned and . Her hand, brave from admitting their relationship to Mike, slipped behind the blonde's neck, and Brittany followed her lead, closing her eyes and leaning down to meet Santana's lips.

Brittany had to grip the desk to steady herself, tightening her hold on Santana's waist tightening. This was no peck, or any sort of chaste smooch. It made her wobble in her heels and her head spin. When Santana released Brittany's bottom lip from between hers and pulled away she smiled at the half-lidded eyes and soft smile on the blonde face.

"Those bows can wait until tomorrow."


	35. Chapter 35

"Hey," Santana walked into Quinn's room without so much as a knock.

The blonde looked up from the dresses laid out on her bed, raising a mildly annoyed eyebrow, "What can I do for you?"

Santana smiled, because that was exactly what she wanted to hear, "Actually, you could do me a huge favor and... not come home tonight."

Quinn's second eyebrow rose to match the first, "You're joking, right?"

"Um, no, I'm not," Santana smiled a bit wider, her eyes skimming over the choices Quinn was debating. "I like this one, you've only worn it once."

"Santana," Quinn picked up the dress Santana had suggested and went to her closet to find shoes to match, "you're really asking me to not come home, to my own house, tonight?"

"You shouldn't think of it like me barring you from the house," she took up the rejected dressed and headed over to hang them in the closet, "and think of it as an excuse to extend your date night with Rachel. I mean, you're already going out, you might as well _stay_ out. I get time with Britt, you get time with Rachel, it's win-win."

"Why can't you go to her place tonight? Or out at all?" Quinn asked, for the sake of argument. She hadn't planned on coming home tonight but it was fun to watch Santana justify herself. "You guys are always in your stupid basement, I'm surprised she doesn't think you're ashamed of her."

"Shut up, it's not like that. We're just... low key, I don't need to take her to a fancy dinner and a show to let her know I care," Santana tired to reason, but suddenly she felt like she wasn't doing enough. She's taken Brittany out before, they've had dinner, went to that comedy club, did Brittany prefer to go out than to stay in? Santana would have to find that out.

While she was finishing hanging up the dresses, Quinn had slipped into the chosen one; black and off the shoulder, it was short enough to be fun, but the cut was classy. She looked at her friend, and Santana was already on her way over to zip her up.

"That works out really well then, because I don't think Brittany needs any more than you," Quinn sighed, giving the brunette a reassuring smile. "So what are your plans? Seduce her with your gaming prowess?"

Santana snorted, "No, I'm making her dinner, that's why we have to do it here. You know I'm particular about my cook wear."

"OCD you mean," Quinn sent over her shoulder. "Help me pick a pair of earrings."

"Whatever," Santana was willing to let that slide, looking over her choices, "I'm trying to treat her for the feature so you'll be cramping my style if I'm worried about you coming home."

Quinn took the pair of earrings Santana picked out without even looking at them, "I don't get why you have this ridiculous stigma against sleeping with someone when I'm in the house. You're a grown ass woman you're allowed to—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Santana stepped back, waving her hands, "cease and desist with that. What makes you think that, that I—"

She couldn't even finish the statement and that was a big clue.

"Uh, Brittany told me that," Quinn smirked at the embarrassed look in her friend's eyes, "she said it was against the rules, your rules."

"I never said that," Santana denied, looking at her nails because she couldn't hold Quinn's eyes.

"I don't think you really have to say anything," Quinn laughed quietly. "I've never seen someone get inside your head like she can. I'm almost worried that she knows you better than I do by now."

"Hardly," Santana joked, "you know me better than I do, I still can't remember most of our first two years at UCLA."

Quinn laughed, "I still can't believe we don't have chronic liver damage."

"We really lucked out on that one," Santana chuckled.

Quinn looked at herself in the vanity, her eyes were critical. Santana knew that look, she gave herself that look so many time before.

"You're beautiful, Q," Santana told her sincerely.

Quinn's eyes stayed on the mirror. She offered a small smile.

"She knew," she said quietly, one of her hands touching her lower stomach absently.

Santana wasn't sure what Quinn was talking about. After a moment Quinn continued.

"That week we spent in San Antonio. I... I know she noticed my stretch marks, the scar from the emergency C-section."

Santana leaned against the vanity, crossing her arms over her chest, "Did she... say anything?"

"Nothing more than a few... comments that gave me the opportunity to admit to having a child," Quinn sighed. "I never did."

"Is she holding that against you?" Santana's protective nature showed itself in her eyes and Quinn almost laughed.

"No, not at all," she tapped her fingers along the vanity as if she was playing a piano, Santana watched carefully, "she's been really understanding about everything, Santana."

"Are you telling me this because you want me to stop holding a grudge against her?"

"Yes," Quinn met her eyes, "there's a reason she's so hard on Brittany."

"I don't care—"

"Brittany cares," Quinn cut her off, "and I care. I'm not asking you to forgive and forget, I'm asking you to try a little harder to see her side of the story."

Santana frowned, it felt an awful lot like Quinn was asking her to let it go for her sake. She would probably have to do it.

"She means a lot to me," Quinn looked down to her fingers, still playing her imaginary piano. "I think... I'm about as serious about her as you are with Britt."

Santana took a deep breath, "You know that's real damn serious, right?"

"Like, seriously, so damn serious," Quinn smirked, catching Santana's eye in a sideways glance.

Santana rolled her eyes. Without thinking, because something in her wanted to prove to Quinn just how serious she was with Brittany, and maybe she needed help processing the idea, Santana said, "Holly told me I should marry her."

Quinn's fingers stopped moving, "What? Santana—"

She didn't realize how insane that sounded until she said it out loud. They had only been dating for a few months. There was still so much they had to learn about each other. Santana could feel a dull heat come to her face and she stomach knotted, embarrassed.

"It was a joke," Santana shook her head and stepped away from the vanity, "a stupid joke, forget I ever said anything—"

"Santana, come on," Quinn grabbed her arm before she could get too far away, "talk to me about this."

"We never talk about shit like this," Santana huffed, but didn't struggle against Quinn's grip, "lets keep it that way."

"I don't want to," Quinn's fingers tightened a little. " I want to talk about Brittany, just like I want to talk to you about Rachel. I want to tell you about her, and how she makes me feel, and about how happy she makes me, and I want you to know that."

Santana's eyes ran over the way Quinn's eyes were lighting up, the corners of her mouth quirking into a hopeless smile, despite how serious she was trying to be, "I want to come home after work and tell you about the silly pictures she sends me from her office, and about the way she's always so punctual—I'm talking on the dot punctual that puts my Googling obsession to shame and..."

She trailed off, releasing Santana's arm and replacing it with her own, hugging herself.

"There's not a single person, in the fucking world, that appreciates what you have with Brittany, more than I do, Santana. I haven't seen you this happy since... well in forever," Quinn said quietly, "but you're still so guarded about it, like if you let anyone see you smile they're going to rip it right off your face."

Santana swallowed, her eyes falling to the ground. It was true even if she didn't want to admit it. The only person that knew how happy she was with Brittany, was Brittany... and even then she might not be entirely expressive about her feelings for the blonde.

"And if she makes you as happy as Rachel makes me then," Quinn finished, her voice almost breaking, "don't you want to share that with me?"

"It's nothing against you, Quinn," Santana spoke in a mere whisper, "you gotta know it's nothing against you."

"No," Quinn rubbed her face, "you haven't been the same since UCLA, and I get that, please believe that I get that, but I... I don't even know."

"I miss you too."

Quinn stared at her for a moment before letting out a shaky breath, "Yeah."

Santana walked back to her original spot against the vanity and Quinn turned towards the mirror. Slowly, her fingers returned to the smooth surface as they got their barrings back, reeling in the loose emotions, and took matching steady breaths.

"It was a joke, what Holly said, I mean," Santana wanted to to explain. "She was gushing over the feature and said it as a joke because she was trying to get me realize what an epic job Britt did on the feature, like I didn't already know that."

"And you're doing... what, with this idea?" Quinn asked slowly, her fingers still poised along the vanity.

Santana moved her sock covered toe over Quinn's carpet, "Squinting at it?"

"Squinting at it?"

"Yeah, it's there," she rolled her eyes at herself, "in my head, but the way I see it, it's like I'm not wearing my glasses, you know like, way off in the distance kinda thing."

"You have only known each other for a few months," Quinn shrugged, "but is it something that could possibly... come into focus?"

"With Brittany, almost anythings statistically possible, Q," Santana mumbled. She knew this because the woman had already changed her life in so many ways.

"Fine," Quinn almost wanted to laugh, "then whats the _probability_?"

"Yeah, I don't know," Santana didn't want to commit to anything other than, "I was just... thinking about it at work, but like I said, _way_ off in the distance and totally not even worth concerning myself with probabilities right now. I would have to think about something like that for a while, before it even started to come into focus."

"You do like to stew on things."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Even then," Quinn smiled as her fingers moved along to a tune in her head, "it does mean you're pretty serious about her."

"That's just it," Santana tried to hide the smile sneaking onto her face, "I've never been able to picture that with anyone, blurry or not, it's never even been a possibility with anyone else. I've never, ever, even considered this with anyone before."

"It feels good to talk about it," Quinn nudged her shoulder lightly, "doesn't it?"

Santana rolled her eyes with a smirk, "Yeah, I guess."

The doorbell chimed and Santana caught the way Quinn's eyes light up.

"Let me get the door," Santana offered, starting towards the hallway.

"S," Quinn warned lightly, but she was already putting all of her importants into her purse of the evening, and giving herself a reason to delay, and an excuse for Santana to open the door.

"I'll be nice," Santana promised. "I've actually been meaning to thank her for the feature... and let her know that there's no hard feelings for planning the celebration at a restaurant that could kill me."

Quinn laughed despite herself, "I did tell her that it wasn't the most considerate thing she could have done."

"Britts has been wanting me to smooth things over anyway," Santana shrugged, "so give me five minutes before you come down?"

"Promise you wont ruin my night?"

"After I just spent so much time getting you dressed?" she teased as she walked out, "not a chance."

Santana made the short journey down the stairs and to the door, secretly she hoped it was Brittany and hour early, but she knew better. Quinn had just mentioned the woman's ability to be effortlessly punctual. Passing a clock on the wall Santana snorted when she found that Rachel was here precisely on time. She opened the door and it was obvious the woman had been expecting her friend.

"Oh—Santana," Rachel picked up her composure, giving the Latina small, shy smile, "how are you?"

"I'm doing alright," Santana opened the door a little further, "Quinn will be right down, come inside."

"Thank you," Rachel stepped into the house and Santana wondered if this was the first time she had been inside it. Her eyes were moving around like it was. "So, I'll assume that you've read Brittany's work?"

"Yeah," Santana leaned casually against the wall, enjoying the way Rachel was trying to keep herself from appearing awkward, "I loved it."

Rachel met her eyes with a more genuine smile, "That's great, Brittany never did tell me what you thought of it."

"Well, I would have told you the other night," Santana frowned with only a touch of sarcasm, "but you know, I have this thing against peanuts, we don't really get along."

Rachel's smile faded and she looked honestly apologetic, "Can I just say that the planning of that event was in no means an attempt to exclude you from—"

"I'm messing with you Berry," Santana chuckled dryly, "really, I was glad that Brittany got a night that was all about her. She deserved it, and I probably wouldn't have been very good dinner company anyway."

The editor bit her lip, her eyes studying Santana for a moment, "You're still angry about the way I treated Brittany after that debacle with the marketing executive."

"Yeah, I am," Santana confessed unabashed. "It was totally uncalled for."

"It was," Rachel nodded, "and I've made amends with Brittany, and I'm also very sorry about the things I said to you in that argument as well."

"I honestly can't even remember what you said, I was a bitch too, and that's my bad," Santana brushed it off, because her real focus was Brittany, "but I'm not going stand here and pretend watching you dangle her career on a thread didn't bug the shit out of me. You're her _friend,_ right? You know how hard she's worked for this shit."

"Perhaps..." Rachel shuffled a little, "if you understood my motives, you might see it in a different light."

Santana didn't say anything, she just waited for Rachel to continue.

"As you know," Rachel started with a bitter chuckle, "before I went into journalism I had a small, short lived, stint in the world of musical theater... and I don't want to paint a bad picture of the industry, because this was a rare but... memorable situation."

Santana quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to get to the point.

"I had a friend, a fellow up and coming," Rachel licked her lips and kept her eyes on her hands. "He had such potential, such promise, and... well... he overdosed on something, I'm not sure what. I never—I never asked about what he was into. I knew, of course, that there was something but it was one of those things that you're not supposed to talk about, you're not supposed to acknowledge. I never thought it was my place... maybe you know what I mean?"

She looked up to Santana and implored her to understand.

"When are you supposed to tell your friend that they're starting to cross that line? When are you supposed to say that? When they've started getting their fixes in dressing rooms? When they're so strung out they can't follow simple stage direction?" she dropped her eyes again. "Of course, after that he was thrown out and things just got worse but... I've failed to intervene once, you can't fault me for trying to not make that mistake again."

Santana still didn't know a lot about Brittany's own recreational drug use, but she did know, "Brittany's not an idiot, you should give her more credit than that."

"I know that," Rachel spoke firmly, "I also know that she would stop if I truly gave her the ultimatum."

"So why are you always on her case about it?" Santana didn't understand that part. "If you're not ever going to do anything about it?"

"I'd like to discourage the behavior as much as I can," Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly and Santana knew that Rachel was going to continue to do that. "I did, however, get rid of all incriminating evidence against her, like you asked. I realize now that it was stupid to keep those records around."

"That's the truth," Santana pushed herself off the wall and took a step closer to the editor. "Look, I'm not going to try and downplay what you did for me, that feature was seriously the best thing that's happened to me since I walked into my first computer class at UCLA. It was amazing, Rachel. I am so thankful for that."

Rachel smiled a little, but she knew there was more to come.

"And while I don't agree with the way you're managing Britt's situation, I have no right to tell you how to be her boss," Santana gave her a half shrug and took another step closer, "but if you ever call her a pothead again; see, that's where we cross from professional to personal, and I will _personally_ beat the shit out of you."

"I—I understand, Santana," Rachel nodded shortly, "I will refrain from using that terminology ever again."

"Good, and I'll turn the other cheek when you have to be a boss, or organize company functions in a pile of peanut shells," Santana looked over her outfit and the threatening quality in her body language faded. "You look really nice by the way, Quinn's gonna love it."

"Thank you," Rachel smoothed down her skirt nervously.

"And we should all go out to dinner again," Santana suggested, with a smile that could be interpreted as friendly, if she hadn't just threatened bodily harm to the editor. "I had a lot of fun last time. Quinn and Brittany would enjoy it."

"They would," Rachel agreed and it was decided. They had said their parts, and both women knew that they would just have to agree to disagree and move on for the sake of their blondes. "That sounds like a great idea."

Santana could hear Quinn coming down the stairs, she had probably been listening to the entire conversation and Santana didn't blame her at all.

Rachel's look of relief at finally being rescued, quickly turned into adoration, "You look beautiful, Quinn."

"Thanks," Quinn smiled softly, her eyes appreciating Rachel in the same way, "you too, that dress is gorgeous on you."

Rachel ducked her head in a flattered manner and Santana rolled her eyes at the both of them, opening the door, "You two have fun."

"Tell Brittany we said—" Quinn stopped, because the woman in question was making her way up the steps at that very moment.

She looked startled that the door had opened, and paused on the steps. No one missed the way she swung whatever was in her hands behind her back.

"Oh, hey guys," she started slowly, looking them over with a quick glance, her eyes lingered on Santana and she sent the woman a private smile to match her curious look. "Going out?"

"Yes," Quinn glanced over to Rachel, taking her hand as they walked over the threshold, "Rachel's taking me to dinner."

"And a show?" Brittany quipped, making it to the top of the stoop. "If it's dinner by Rachel Berry, there has to be some Broadway in there somewhere. It just wouldn't be right."

"Is that your way of telling me I'm predictable?" Rachel walked onto the porch and swatted her friend's arm.

Brittany gave her a small grin and said, "You both look very pretty."

"Thank you, Brittany," Quinn said as she shrugged on her light jacket. "I tried to get Santana to bust out a table cloth for your dinner but she insisted on keeping things simple."

"That's actually a great idea," Brittany glanced to Santana who was leaning against the door frame, just waiting for the others to leave so they could be alone, "I have horrible luck with those things. I usually spill something on them or... something."

"And by something, you mean set them on fire," Rachel mumbled under her breath.

"Or that," Brittany sent her a warning look, blushing a little and hoping Santana didn't hear.

"What?" Santana asked, moving out of the doorway as the other couple started towards the stairs.

Brittany was keeping to the outside of them, walking sideways so that no one could see what was behind her back.

"It's a long story," Brittany brushed it off, licking her lips as Santana moved closer, "I'll tell you later. You look very pretty yourself, Santana."

Santana laughed, knowing that her jeans and tee shirt we nothing to be impressed by but she was flattered because Brittany was being sincere. She tilted her head and Brittany was happy to kiss her in way of greeting. As she pulled away she asked, "What are you hiding?"

Brittany opened her mouth to answer but Quinn beat her to it.

"Whatever it is, it's beautiful."

Somewhere, lost in Santana, she hadn't seen Quinn and Rachel's angle change so that they could see behind her back.

"She's been working on it for the last week," Rachel whispered in a way that wasn't really a whisper. She wanted Santana to know that Brittany had put time into it.

"She made that?"

Santana watched her girlfriend's cheeks color. With an amused smile and a curious expression she asked, "You made something?"

"Kinda?" Brittany bit her lip, she really didn't want an audience when she presented her gift, but what the heck. "You made the pot, I just added to it. I hope you don't mind."

She pulled the object out from behind her back and held it up to Santana.

Santana recognized the pot, crafted and painted with her own unpracticed hand. The surprise was the sculpture of a flower. Made from wire, twisted and threaded, sprouting from inside. Leaves, cut out from circuit boards, bloomed around a gleaming golden cog.

"I didn't think you would ever put a real plant in it," Brittany mumbled, "and this flower can live in your basement for like... ever. You don't even have to water it."

"Brittany," Santana took the pot, holding it close to see the details. It was simple and complex, decorative spirals of wire grew from the mesh wire base, mimicking grass growing from dirt. "How did you make this?"

"With pliers," she scratched her nose and glanced at the women who were looking on.

"We're going to be late for our reservation," Quinn whispered in a real whisper. She couldn't help the pleased smile on her face, and as much as she wanted to keep watching the cute moment, Quinn knew Santana wasn't going to be able to really thank Brittany unless they were alone. "We should get going."

"Right," Rachel followed her lead and with an encouraging glance back at Brittany, they stepped off the porch and out of earshot.

"Britt," Santana breathed, "this... this is incredible. You made this?"

"Yeah," she laughed softly, "um... do you like it?"

"This is my new favorite thing," Santana looked up at her with a lopsided grin, "ever. This is it, this is my new favorite thing."

Brittany flushed, pleased with the praise.

"I don't even know where I want to put it because I want to see it... everywhere."

Brittany leaned down to kiss the smiling woman's cheek, "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," Santana turned so Brittany caught her lips instead of her cheek. Her hand reached up to keep Brittany close for a moment longer. Her thumb brushed along the woman's jaw, cherishing this feeling, the fact that she was here, for her.

She pulled away and Brittany was looking down at her with loving blue eyes and she was so happy to be able to admit, "I love you, Brittany. I am, so in love with you."

Maybe she knew Santana would like to hear it, because instead of saying just, me too, Brittany took her time to say, "I'm in love with you too, Santana."

* * *

><p>"The food smells great."<p>

Santana focused on her spatula as a pair of hands slipped around her waist. She leaned back into Brittany's chest and the blonde rested her chin on her shoulder. The wire flower was given a prized spot as the centerpiece at the table.

"I hate cooking," Brittany admitted, "it leads to dishes and that's like, my least favorite chore ever."

"I do most of the cooking around here," Santana chuckled, "Quinn can't cook to save her life and the few times she's tried she's ended up ruining my good cookware, so I've told her she's not allowed to anymore."

Brittany laughed, the sound warm in Santana's ears, "How come you never taught her?"

"She..." Santana fidgeted with the strips of meat in her pan, "I tried, it didn't work out."

"Hopeless?" Brittany kissed Santana's cheek and turned so she was leaning against the counter and facing her girlfriend.

"Nah," Santana shrugged her shoulders, "she has this insane aversion to anything that could be considered... maternal."

Brittany thought back to the drama Jesse St. James had pulled up about Quinn Fabray. The picture of her daughter.

"Learning to cook is one of those things you're supposed to do to because you plan to cook _for_ someone, namely, your kid," Santana continued softly.

She hesitated, "I'm guessing that Quinn put her up for adoption?"

"Yeah," Santana nodded, "that's how it went down."

"Do they keep in touch or was it... what do they call that? A closed adoption?"

"It was pretty hands off until the fosters reached out to Q a few years ago," Santana explained, "they talked and talked, and made all sorts of arrangements. For the past couple summers Quinn has been a youth counselor at that camp St. James was talking about. Beth, her daughter, is one of the kids that goes every year and Beth's foster mom is a counselor too."

"Does Beth know that Quinn is her biological mom, and not just another camp counselor?"

"I don't know," Santana shrugged, she wondered if that would change now that they had their little heart to heart upstairs, "getting Quinn to talk about that stuff is like trying to break a brick wall with your forehead. All I know is that the camp is two weeks long and she always takes three off from work, because she needs that last week to... recover."

"So... if Jesse went through with getting her fired from that camp..." Brittany frowned and trailed off.

"She would have lost a lot more than a summer hobby," Santana finished for her.

"I hate that guy."

"I've been plotting his death for the better part of two years," Santana sent her playful look, trying to lighten the mood. "That's why I'm really on the computer all the time, I'm calculating the best way to do it."

Brittany laughed at her, "Somehow, I doubt it would take you two years to figure it out, you much too smart for that."

"Maybe I just like variety and I really have twenty different plots cooked up," Santana countered, "I need a lot of options before I choose the perfect one."

"Huh," Brittany fought back a smirk.

Santana eyed it, trying to figure out what was funny. When the thought came to her, Santana blushed deeply and pointed her spatula at the blonde, "I did not go through _that_ many one nightstands before I picked you."

"I didn't say anything," Brittany laughed, playfully offended by the accusation.

"You didn't have to," Santana tried her best to look angry. She failed miserably and Brittany kissed the smile that was threatening to show.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend," Brittany said sincerely, even though she never did say anything.

"You're fine," Santana chuckled, "and if anything... you picked me, Britt."

"What do you mean?"

"I never would have made a move," Santana kept her eyes on the pan, embarrassed by the admission, "if you hadn't—in that dressing room, I would have let you just walk out of my life after the feature was published."

Brittany reached out to run her finger along the woman's bicep, "You think?"

"I know," Santana confirmed, "you had already gotten so far under my skin, it was scary to think about what would of happened if I had tried something and you... well, weren't interested."

"How could you not see that I was interested?" Brittany snorted, seriously not understanding. "I suck a subtle, remember?"

"I was totally in denial," Santana scoffed at herself, a shy smile on her face, "convincing myself that I was making it all up in my head."

"I'm sure you were scared to get burned again," Brittany said quietly.

"Yeah that too."

"I'm not about to burn you, Santana," Brittany promised.

"I know, Britt," she picked the pan off the burner and kissed the blonde one last time before smirking, "but if anyone is gonna burn right now, it's gonna be you."

Brittany blinked, watching the woman go to the fridge, "Why's that?"

"Say hello," she took a bell jar out of the door shelf, "to the Lopez Family secret salsa recipe. You can't have fajitas without it, it's just not done."

Brittany eyed the jar, then the playfully challenge in Santana's eye, "Hello?"

* * *

><p>Santana had to admit that this movie wasn't as bad as she expected it to be. She honestly wasn't paying that much attention but every once in a while Brittany would laugh and that was the part she really enjoyed.<p>

"Can I... can I talk to you about something kind of important?"

Santana's hand, which had been tracing mindless patterns into Brittany's ribcage, paused as she looked up to the blonde. They were laying on the couch, the computer enthusiast on top of the journalist; her head resting on Brittany's chest and her hips wedged between her legs.

"What do you mean,_ kind of_ important?"

"Okay, it's important," she snorted to herself, trying to keep her mood light but her worry was showing in her eyes.

"What's up, Britt?" Santana knew she should do it, but her mind always went to that place where to prepare herself for the worst.

"You know Sue Sylvester."

Brittany said it as more of a statement than a question, because of course Santana knew who that was.

Santana's response was a weary, but predictable, "If you mean the crazy widow that owns Clockwork, then yeah, I know of her."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she was able to say, "I met her today."

"You met Sue Sylvester," Santana said slowly, "the owner of Clockwork. My boss's boss's boss."

"Yeah," Brittany was watching her carefully, obviously unsure how she was going to take this news, "that's was the last minute thing I had to do for the feature today."

"What?" Santana asked it quietly, in a way Brittany understood to be trying to keep herself from overreacting, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now," Brittany made an awkward hand motion between them, "this is me telling you."

"I meant before you went to talk to her," Santana reached up and took Brittany's hand to still it, and to have something to ground herself. "If you were about to meet the owner of Clockwork, why wouldn't you have told me?"

"Because I didn't know until that Puckerman guy cornered me in the lobby," Brittany explained the entire thing.

Being confronted in the lobby, asked to stay off her phone, begging for the opportunity to send one text message, and finally escorted to the executive suite. She told Santana everything she had said to Sue Sylvester, and everything the CEO had disclosed to her. Brittany was as detailed as her memory could allow and Santana listened carefully. Her eyes kept that analytical, calculating quality that Brittany had fallen for in the beginning.

She was already seeing the pros and cons, what might come of this, the rewards and repercussions.

"She wants to know what's really going on," Brittany finished, "she wants to know about Jesse and the idiots in marketing, she wants to know who's making your life hard."

"Brittany," Santana's eyes shifted back and forth between hers, "you didn't..."

She didn't finish the statement because she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

"I haven't told her anything," Brittany reassured her, "but I told her that I have that... other version of the feature, the one that didn't sensor anything out about Jesse and the marketing department. The one that talks about how you've had to resort to using a service elevator and how you have three pending sexual harassment complaints against men around your company that have yet to be addressed by corporate."

Santana dropped her eyes and Brittany caught the shame in them, still she was embarrassed that she had allowed this to happen to her. She always took her situation in the worst way, blaming herself for being too weak to fend off Jesse St. James or the unwanted advances of a few men.

Brittany wanted it to stop.

"I think she can help you," Brittany wanted Santana to see this as an opportunity. "I think she can change things."

"But at what cost Britt?" Santana squeezed her hand around Brittany's fingers. "If St. James even gets the idea that I sent Sylvester on him, who knows what he'll do?"

"Didn't you say that you were going to make sure he deleted all the stuff off his computers?"

"Yeah, and I have," Santana shook her head, "but it's no guarantee that he hasn't kept a copy on a external hard drive or something like that."

Brittany leaned her head back on the arm rest, she took a deep breath and tried to not get frustrated, "I want to say, fuck it, let him publish everything, but I'm probably the one that could lose the least out of all of you."

"None of us have to lose anything," Santana said quietly, "I've already been dealing with this for so long... and besides, I have some sort of handle on St. James now so..."

"_So_ she still knows that I know what's really going on," Brittany sighed, "she might start sniffing around anyway and he could blame it on you and retaliate regardless."

Santana laid her head on Brittany's chest, mumbling, "God damn it."

"She knows that someone is blackmailing you," Brittany reasoned, "and she doesn't like it, she's going to figure it out."

Santana didn't respond and Brittany started stroking her hair softly.

Brittany wished this was easier, she had hoped that the feature would help Santana at work, but now it seemed to open another can of worms. That Sue Sylvester woman... she seemed to honestly want to help Santana. Yes, it was probably because Santana was one of the people that has helped keep her company afloat while she was out of the picture, and therefore, helping Santana was really helping herself, but she still wanted to help.

"I think..." Brittany hesitated, "do you want to know what I think?"

Santana lifted her head enough to look Brittany in the eye and say, "Always, Britt, I'll always want to know."

Brittany's chest warmed at the admission, the way Santana's eyes were soft and considering, like she trusted Brittany's judgement over her own.

"I think," Brittany started a little more confidently, "that you're going to have the most control over the situation if you follow Quinn's lead and try to get in cahoots with the boss lady. I think she can protect you."

"We don't know that for sure, Britt," Santana hesitated, but her mind was already changing. "Maybe if I talk to her myself, I'll be able to get a read on her, and figure out if she's just going to screw me over or not."

"But like," Brittany bit her lip, "I wasn't supposed to tell you about this."

"That doesn't make any sense," Santana scoffed, "if she's so interested in my business why can't she get the information from me?"

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged and the woman on top of her moved with her body, "but you can still help me edit that second version of the article so it only has what you want her to know in it."

Santana mulled the offer over in her head, "Let me think about it tonight?"

"Sure," Brittany leaned forward to kiss her girlfriend on the forehead, "I'm sorry to throw this at you when we're supposed to be relaxing, but I didn't want to keep it from you any longer."

"I get that, Britt," Santana moved her hand in Brittany's so that their fingers interlaced. "It means a lot to me that you're telling me about this."

"This is bigger than me," Brittany knew keeping it a secret had never been an option, "I'm not gonna mess around with your life behind your back like that, San."

"And that," Santana kissed Brittany's knuckles softly, "means the world to me."

"We're going to figure this all out, San," she brushed a strand of Santana's hair back behind her ear, "I have a good feeling about it, so don't worry yourself too much, okay?"

"You know I love to worry," Santana joked in a light breath, caught in the loving adoration of Brittany's eyes.

Brittany quirked a eyebrow, "More than you love me?"

Santana sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and shook her head a little, "Never."

She wasn't sure if she loved anything more than she loved Brittany.

"Good," Brittany kissed her, it was a comfort and a promise.

Brittany had every intention of helping Santana figure out the mess at Clockwork, she had every intention of being there every step of the way. She had every intention of making Santana feel as happy as she hoped the woman to be. As appreciated as she knew Santana deserved to feel. And as loved as she could possibly inspire through the journey.


	36. Chapter 36

AN: You all might have noticed that the last few updates have been at later and later intervals, I truly apologize for that. It's a mix of time management and wanting to put all of the puzzle pieces together in the right order.

I'm estimating 4-6 chapters left, depending on my blocking.

* * *

><p>Santana flipped the page to the newspaper on her kitchen table. She was taking a little more time than usual this morning, present company probably had more to do with that then her real schedule. Instead of the office, her first stop this morning was the convention arena to help the boys set up for the exhibition, so she had the time to enjoy her breakfast... and Brittany.<p>

The blonde was sitting beside her, and not nearly as interested in the morning paper as she was. Absently, Santana felt Brittany take her hand. She gave her girlfriend a loving squeeze, her thumb running over Brittany's knuckles softly. It wasn't long before Brittany was moving their hands, rearranging them so that their thumbs were skyward and their fingers were gripping each others. Santana felt the familiar taps of Brittany's thumb on either side of her own.

While her mind stayed focused on the newspaper in front of her, Santana moved her thumb along with Brittany's in tandem, accepting her thumb-war challenge. Her attempts to beat Brittany were absentminded at best, she was more involved in tracking stocks and loving the feeling of Brittany's hand in hers. Their thumbs worked against each other and for the third time in a row, Brittany pinned Santana's thumb to their fingers.

"You're letting me win," Brittany chuckled next to her, knowing that Santana wasn't even paying attention.

"No," Santana's thumb squirmed under Brittany's playfully, "I just like it better when you're on top."

The comment was so unexpected that Brittany blushed, "That sounds mighty submissive of you, Santana."

"Didn't you hear?" the corner of Santana's lip quirked up, "I'm more easily controlled by a woman."

"You're a dork," Brittany kissed her knuckles and stood, taking hers and Santana's plates to the sink. "What are you up to at work today?"

"We're doing set up of the exhibition site this morning," Santana folded her paper because she really needed to start getting ready for work. "Then I have a few bows to tie at the office. How about you?"

"Rachel has a couple different projects she wants me to look at," Brittany smiled as she walked back to the table from the sink, "for my next article."

"That's cool," Santana's eyebrows quirked up, interested, "I hope you find something you like."

"Me too," Brittany brushed a strand of dark hair behind Santana's ear, "and maybe I can convince her that I have better things to do this morning. I love watching you guys set up."

"I wish you could," Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist, pulling her closer to her chair, "but I don't want Rachel thinking that you're not serious about you new journalist gig."

"She really doesn't expect me to focus on anything until after your big expo is over," Brittany leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "That's why she hasn't given me another assignment already, so don't worry about it."

Santana chewed on her bottom lips for a second, "That's nice of her."

"She's a nice person," Brittany looked down at Santana and caught her eyes, Santana nodded in a way that said, okay you're right.

"I can't wait for this thing to be over," Santana stood up, keeping her arms around the blonde, "so I can start focusing on things that matter... like you."

"You already do focus on me," Brittany seemed a little confused.

"Yeah, but," Santana's eyes fell and she could feel her cheeks warm, "we spend a lot of time here. I don't know, something Quinn said yesterday made me think that..."

Santana didn't really know how to say it, but Brittany understood.

"Aww," Brittany cooed, "you're cute."

Santana frowned, because she was trying to be serious, not cute.

"San, we spend a lot of time here," she kissed her softly, smiling at the coffee smell, "focusing on each other, that's all I need."

"What you _need_ sounds like settling to me. I'm asking about what you _want_, Britt. We could go out more," Santana shrugged as Brittany threw her arms her shoulders, "if you wanted."

Brittany considered her words, "Do you think that's what I want?"

All she wanted was for Santana to feel comfortable, especially with the biggest day of her year coming up. She didn't want Santana worrying about planning some big date night when she already had so much to think about.

Santana shrugged again, her posture showing her indecision, "That's why I'm asking."

"How about this," Brittany kissed her cheek, "next time I want to go out, I'll ask you out. Until then, we'll be couch potatoes and get fat on how sweet our love is."

Santana snorted, "Is this one of those crazy girlfriend things, where it's really just a big trap? You tell me that, then wait to see if I ask you anyway, because it's really all about how you want me to want to ask you out?"

Brittany's eyes tilted to the ceiling, she was either considering if this was a similar situation or trying to figure out what Santana's question meant because she was kind of rambling, "Um, no I don't think that this is one of those things."

"You're sure?"

"Pretty sure," she smirked, catching onto the smile in Santana's voice. Brittany realized that the woman had been kidding the whole time.

"Alright," Santana sighed playfully, "I'll just have to trust you."

"Please do," Brittany kissed her again, "and not just about this. I'm sending that stuff to Sue Sylvester as soon as I get into the office. I have a really good feeling about this, but I want to give you one last chance to change your mind."

The gentle concern in Brittany's voice warmed Santana's heart. Brittany really cared for Santana's answer and she knew that Brittany would call it off in a heartbeat if that was what Santana wanted. There was no pressure, just her opinion, and an option.

"Before you do, I want to know one thing," Santana glanced away, a little embarrassed. "What's giving you this good feeling? Like, what about this woman makes you think that she can be trusted?"

Brittany traced a small design into Santana's tee shirt as she thought about it, "There was something in her eyes, she looked like she was on a mission to put her company right again. She understands that you're an asset to her, Santana. I think she's going to try to honor that."

Santana nodded, satisfied with that answer, "You can send her the stuff, Britt."

"I will," Brittany's finger traced up Santana's neck and slipped around to the back. Easily, she was able to draw Santana into a comforting kiss, promising that even if everything didn't work out exactly how she hoped, she would still be here. She pulled away and gave Santana a playful look, trying to lighten the stressful burden on her shoulders, "Besides, she's blonde, and I know you have a thing for blondes. So it's all kinda fits."

* * *

><p>Santana stood in the center of an impressively sized stage. It was the main focal point to the convention hall and even if the arena was had a handful of people scattered around it, and none of them were even looking at her, it still made her tense. The muscles in her shoulders were tight, her jaw set harshly, one hand gripping her elbow firmly as she pressed the knuckles of her other hand to her pursed lips. She was trying to picture it, presenting here with a full stadium, with everyone watching.<p>

This was her dilemma.

Clockwork's showing, and her presentations, were to be given here on the main stage, instead of the smaller personal stage that they normally set up. She couldn't have her own network, she wouldn't be just a small demonstration on the floor.

No, she was going to be a scheduled, showcased, exhibition event.

She wanted to be proud that she was getting this opportunity, that they were affording her this compliment by requesting her work on the main stage. She knew Orbit wasn't getting such a featured presentation. Clockwork really was on top, and she should be proud, because she helped get it there.

There was only one problem; Santana was terrified.

She looked around the vast hall, imagining the thousands of people that were estimated to appear throughout the event, then she turned on her heel and ran her eyes over the large—daunting—projection screen behind her. For the moment it was blank.

For the moment it was innocent.

"Santana?"

Santana flinched out of her thoughts, her eyes searching out whoever said her name.

"San?"

She found Brittany standing near a stack of speakers that had yet to be assembled. Santana felt the scowl on her face disappear instantly, being replaced with a small, but genuine, smile. She took her fingers from her lips and twisted her hand at the wrist, sending the blonde a tiny wave, "Brittany, what are you doing here?"

"I'm on my lunch," Brittany explained, moving closer, her eyes were smiling more than her lips.

Santana had started to recognize the expression as Brittany trying to keep from looking too excited to see her, she only did it when they were in very public places, like on the stage of a convention hall. The set up crews were at lunch for the most part, and they were alone on the stage area, but Brittany was always careful.

"I called," she teased lightly, "but you had left your phone in your blazer by the Clockwork booth."

"I'm sorry," Santana's eye fell to her shoes, she had been pretty out of it since she got here. "I'm guessing Kurt answered it?"

"He did," Brittany looked out to the arena. "Wow, this is a pretty big stage. Are you going to be up here?"

"I know," Santana said quietly, "Clockwork's presentations are a featured exhibition event..."

"When did that happen?" Brittany was sure Santana would have mentioned it before now, "I thought you were going to be on your own stage, like always."

"After your article gave us so much publicity," Santana told her honestly, "they asked if we wanted to be showcased."

Brittany was so worried about Santana's stage fright that she missed hint of pride in her voice, "I am so sorry Santana, I never meant for this—"

"Britt," Santana touched her arm gently to quiet her, "never, ever apologize for that, for your success."

Brittany bit her lip, "I know you don't like talking in front of crowds..."

"I'll get over it," Santana brushed it off with a light laugh, the strained smile on her face didn't meet her eyes. "This is more than we could have ever hoped for. People really responded to your feature, Britt. I wanted everyone to start taking me seriously, and look," she waved to the convention hall around them, "this is as serious as it gets."

"I feel like..." Brittany took a small step closer, wringing the tips of her fingers together, "you're not happy."

Santana blinked at her, hoping her fear wasn't showing in her eyes.

"With all of this," Brittany repeated Santana's gesture to the arena.

"I am happy, logically, I'm happy. I realize that this is an incredibly awesome thing. Irrationally, I'm a nervous wreck," Santana chuckled deep in her chest and kept her eyes on the convention floor, "it's nothing to worry about, I'll be fine once all of this is over..."

"This is probably way worse because you're showing your project too," Brittany sighed, watching Santana's face carefully.

"Yeah, I mean," she glanced at Brittany, "what if it flops?"

Brittany was sure, "The way Sam and Mike talk about it, there's no way that's gonna happen. Plus, I've seen all the work you've put into it, Santana, and you don't waste your time with things that aren't awesome."

Santana had to smile, catching Brittany's joke, "You are excellent proof of my high standards."

Brittany felt a little better when she saw the break in Santana's bleak mood, but she knew there was more to it than that, "What's really on your mind? Why are you hanging out up here?"

"I'm just trying to get used to it," Santana shrugged, gripping her elbow again because she didn't have a pen on her, "you know, being up here. I'm trying to picture talking to all these people."

"Does it usually help your stage fright?" Brittany started walking around the stage, familiarizing herself the dimensions and angles. She could see a podium off to the right for the speaker, and the free space they had to walk between there and the projection board. There was also an elegant table to show a product.

"No, not really," Santana watched Brittany move as she stayed rooted to her spot near the podium, "I think I like torturing myself."

"What happened?" Brittany asked, looked back to her girlfriend with kind eyes.

Santana tensed so visibly that Brittany could see it from center stage.

"What makes you think something happened?" she asked quietly, even though there wasn't anyone in listening distance. "People have stage fright all the time. It's totally normal."

"It's just a feeling," Brittany thought back, "something Quinn said in passing, something Jesse said about why you left UCLA."

Santana was quiet for a while, looking from the floor, to the projection screen, to Brittany. Finally she said, "You know how when two people are getting to know each other, sometimes they'll ask, what was the most embarrassing moment of your life?"

Brittany closed the distance between them, so she could lean against the podium next to Santana. From the angle, no one on the floor can see her taking Santana's hand on top of the smooth dark wood, rubbing circles between Santana's knuckles, coaxing her into reliving the past.

"This is like, the most embarrassingly mortifying day of my entire life," Santana scoffed, trying to keep a indifferent attitude, "and it was Artie… again."

"At UCLA?"

"Yeah, after that night, I still wasn't even sure what happened—I woke up at home. Quinn told me I called her around three in the morning and she found my ass wondering around campus."

Brittany squeezed her hand lightly. Santana looked around the stage to avoid Brittany's eyes, and to equate it to the scene in her head.

"A few weeks later I was presenting my final project," Santana waved her hand in front of her, seeing the lecture hall and the students instead of the convention arena. "I was in front of everyone. My friends and the people that resented me for my grades, or that I was Holly's favorite..."

Brittany knew Artie Abrams was among that second group.

"I was talking, the projection board behind me," she spared the large white screen behind her a glance, "and suddenly... I knew something was wrong."

If Brittany's thumb wasn't calmly stroking the back of her hand, Santana might have stopped there and let the woman draw her own conclusions. It's not like she didn't know what was coming next.

"It was weird, the air in the room changed," Santana's voice became very quiet, her eyes dancing around like she could see it in front of her again, "it was like everyone stopped breathing at the same time. This one guy spewed soda everywhere, Holly was running from the back of the lecture hall, everyone had this look on their faces and I—and I turned around, and on the projector was that photo."

Her voice broke and Santana took in a deep breath to keep from crying again, she was so over crying about this shit. The pit of Brittany's stomach was cold, a pained ache in her chest.

"That's how I found out what happened that night, and that there was _evidence_," Santana grumbled roughly. "He was just sitting there, with this hateful look in his eyes, like, I deserved it or something."

"Why would he—"

"By that point Tina still hadn't broken up with me," Santana reasoned tightly, having given it some thought herself, "and I guess he decided... if she wasn't going to do it… he knew me well enough to know how to make me feel like I didn't deserve her."

"I hate him," Brittany wished she had done more than threaten him at the restaurant.

Santana let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head as she said, "You know he apologized for that one?"

"What?" Brittany couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, I know," Santana didn't seem to know what to make of it either, even after all these years, "he emailed me—I had already transferred to Berkeley; pathetic, I know—but he told me when he hacked into my damn computer and altered my presentation to add that fucking picture, he thought that I would have looked over it one last time before I presented it. He hadn't meant for... any of that to happen."

Brittany watched Santana face, dark eyes following her own fingertip around the polished wood, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. She had to ask, "Do you believe him?"

Santana sighed, looking to Brittany with a lost expression, "At the time, no. I was bitter and angry, and what he did was malicious and fucking unforgivable..."

"But?" Brittany prompted after she trailed off.

"I feel bad for him, Britt," Santana whispered it like she was ashamed of herself. "I've always felt like... he thought I was ruining his life, taking everything he wanted, but I never meant for that to happen and no matter how much he tries to get back at me, I always end up ahead... and it's really... sad."

The pale fingers that threaded through hers grounded her, and Santana felt the tightness around her chest ease. She let out a deep breath, rolling her shoulders, and looking up to the arena, blinking away the images from the past and turning to the only thing that truly mattered.

"Santana," Brittany started softly, when she knew she had her girlfriend's attention, "you know you're a good person, right?"

Santana had to laugh, breaking up more of the tension in her body, "I'm not really known for that, no."

"Well," Brittany held her eyes, the blue spheres gleaming with a level of affection that only Brittany had ever presented to her, "I'll just have to do a follow up piece and _that_ will be the main focus; Santana Lopez, the most awesome and resilient woman, ever."

"Somehow, I don't think many people would be interested in that one," Santana chuckled, feeling better.

"I would be," Brittany said quietly.

"Then that's all that matters," Santana decided, smiling softly.

Brittany tied to keep the pleased grin off her face for the sake of the solemn moment, but she failed, and it only made Santana feel that much better.

"Is there um…" Santana dropped her eyes back to their hands, "anyway you can come? To the expo, I mean."

"Of course, San," Brittany chuckled. "Do you really think Rachel is going to let anyone else write about one of these things after that one guy almost ruined our contract?"

"You do know the business much better than any of those reporters," Santana smiled, and by business, she meant herself.

"Much better," Brittany agreed with a sly smile, she knew what Santana was implying.

They stood next to the podium for a moment, letting their fingers tangle and their thumbs wander over the groves in their palms. They forgot about the people working around them, the large screen behind them, all they knew was each other, and Brittany saw the tension in Santana's shoulder's ease.

"Hey," she said quietly, catching the pair of dark eyes next to her, "did you want me to come over tonight?"

Santana blushed, feeling a little too much like she was completely dependant on Brittany for a good nights sleep, "Would you?"

"Lord Tubbington actually asked me to make myself scarce tonight, so really, you would be doing me a favor," Brittany told her as an answer. "I think he's having a lady friend over."

Santana blinked at her, "Are you making fun of me for asking Quinn to not come home last night?"

"Yes," Brittany didn't even hesitate, the small smile on her face was both teasing and charming.

Santana laughed, and Brittany was so glad to hear it, "Well, if it's okay with him."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No," Santana had forgotten about lunch, not that she had really felt like eating with all the nervous butterflies in her stomach.

"Wanna grab something with me?" Brittany asked, "that's kinda the whole reason I came over here."

"Sure, Britt," she gave Brittany's hand one last squeeze before moving away from the podium with the blonde, "I have to get back to the office anyway."

"I miss walking around Clockwork with you," Brittany sighed, "I'm always thinking about where you're at, or what you might be doing."

Santana flushed, brushing some hair behind her ear, "Missing you, B. That's all I ever do anymore."

"Good to know," Brittany sent her private smile, the I love you smile, and for a moment it made Santana forget every worry she's ever had.

* * *

><p>She was walking in enemy territory.<p>

The marketing department was not her favorite place in the entire world, but she needed to pick up some copyright paperwork for Tina and she would rather walk on eggshells for three minutes than make Tina drive all the way into the city. They were planning a lunch date next week anyway, so she'll get her paperwork then. This was Santana's last errand of the day before she went home. A night with Brittany was worth getting this over with quickly.

"Erwin," Santana said shortly to the man behind the desk, "I'm picking up a copyright packet for one of our freelance photographers, "Tina Chang."

"Chang, Tina," he repeated. "Alright, I'll be right back."

He disappeared into the office behind his desk and Santana looked around, constantly vigilant of potential threats. What she found was the absence of a threat, and that bothered her more.

The office of Jesse St. James was being emptied. Through the large door, Santana could see three uniformed men packing up the personals of the Head of Marketing.

Or was he the _former_ Head of Marketing now?

Santana's stomach tumbled unpleasantly. Brittany had emailed Sue Sylvester that information, the real story, the truth about Jesse St. James. If he had been fired... and he even had the _idea_ that Santana was behind it... then everyone was in trouble.

"Why Miss Lopez," a horribly familiar voice drawled slowly, "fancy seeing you so far from that cave of a computer lab."

Speak of the devil.

She turned to him, pushing down all of her anxiety and meeting his eyes with a hard look, "St. James."

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he quirked his eyebrows at her and certainly didn't look like a man that had just been fired. If anything he looked even more pompous and aggravating than usual.

"Picking up some paperwork," she slid her eyes over to his office. "Are you redecorating, or did they finally come to their senses and decide to move your office into the depths of hell, where you belong."

He laughed at the contempt in her voice and moved closer, leaning carelessly on the desk she was standing next to, "I am on my way out, but I wasn't fired, quite the opposite in fact."

He paused, because he wanted her to ask him to continue.

She refused.

He continued anyway, "I'm sure you've realized that Clockwork's most influential CEO dragged herself out of her cesspool of self-pity to come back and turn a few things around in this wonderful company of ours."

Santana really didn't like the tone in his voice, the way he was looking at her like he knew all her secrets—which was true. She put one hand on her hips and studied the nails of her other hand, "And what does that have to do with you?"

"She's building a satellite office in Seattle, and guess who's on the executive team to oversee the launch?"

Briefly, Santana realized that the only thing stopping her from clawing the man's face off was her habit of keeping her nails so short. Sue Sylvester didn't fire Jesse, she promoted him farther than he ever deserved to go. She's rewarding him for some unfathomable reason and Santana wanted to kill somebody. She was hoping for justice, and all she got was the small comfort that he was moving to Seattle.

She couldn't say that it was helping.

It was like she had just been hit by a bus. She was having a hard time breathing. She literally couldn't wrap her mind around how Jesse St. James was getting an executive position at a new satellite office and she still had yet to be acknowledged by the company's new owner. The one that promised Brittany justice and a bright fucking future with a cherry on top.

"I hope your plane crashes," she smiled sweetly, her eyes conveying her barely contained and absolute loathing.

He laughed, and the sound made her skin crawl, "I have to admit, I'm going to miss playing our little games."

Games. She was always just a game to him. She was nothing more than a pawn in his game of chess, and just when she thought she had a chance, he catches her in a checkmate that she can't possibly win. Even with everything she has on him, there were too many people that could get hurt if she pissed him off. This was only a game to him, but she felt like she just lost so much.

She didn't realize how much she let herself believe in Sue Sylvester's promises until it blew up in her face.

"I love the glasses, by the way," his smirk was devilish. "I should have insisted that you wear them in a photo shoot a long time ago, I'm sure it your fans would _love_ it."

His tone, god his tone, implied every innuendo in a single turn of a phrase. Taking something she cherished because Brittany loved it, and turned it into some sort of sick fetish to be marketed. She might have hit him, but the clerk returned in that moment and said, "Here's your packet, Miss Lopez."

Santana took Tina's paperwork and, with a hateful look, walked away from Jesse St. James for the last time. She would have taken consolation in that fact, but she was too upset. The stress from the exhibition, the disappointment in Sue Sylvester, and bitter resentment towards his success were meshing into some horribly dejected ache in her chest. She was furious. She was irate. She wanted to punch somebody.

She was about to cry.

* * *

><p>She made it about as far as Quinn's office door before the tears started welling in her eyes, pushing through she let out a small and pathetic, "Q?"<p>

Santana heard the movement behind the desk more than she saw it, between taking off her glasses and the blurs from her tears. She didn't need to see much to make it around the desk and fall rather ungracefully into Quinn's lap. Screw her pride, forget trying to act tough, Santana was so frustrated she couldn't handle anything more than to sit in Quinn's lap, bury her face in the woman's shoulder and cry.

Quinn went stiff for a moment, probably surprised that Santana would break down at the company, even if it was hidden in her office. Santana didn't care, they just had a fluffy heart to heart, so Quinn had better live up to her side of the bargain. Only a second passed before comforting arms wrapped around her shoulders and embraced her. It made Santana cry that much harder.

"I fucking hate him so much," Santana mumbled through her teeth, "I want to set him on fire and watch him burn while I hold a bucket of water and dangle it in his face."

A hand started working comforting circles into her back and Santana took a small breath.

"I can't fucking believe this, he get's fucking everything handed to him. I can't believe I thought things might change. I'm such an idiot," Santana sniffled, taking one last deep breath against Quinn's shoulder and started to sit up, wiping her eyes dry. "God damn it, I'm so pathetic it's—"

She stopped talking when she realized that she wasn't sitting in Quinn's lap.

"Um," Rachel kept glancing between the desk and Santana's incredulous eyes. "Hello, Santana."

"Where's Quinn?" Santana asked shortly, still frozen in place by the absurdity of it all. This was mortifying. She _was_ such an idiot.

"She was called to some executive meeting," Rachel clasped her hands together against her own chest because she knew Santana wouldn't want them touching her. "I don't know when she's going to be back, she left nearly an hour ago."

Santana slipped her glasses back on, the world around her coming into a better focus and only confirming that she was sitting in Rachel Berry's lap, in her friend's office, after crying her eyes out about Jesse St. James.

"Did something happen?" Rachel started quietly, cautiously.

"Yeah," Santana threw her arms out harshly and Rachel flinched, "Jesse St. Jerk-off got a huge fucking promotion and is on his way to Seattle to help manage a mini-corporate Clockwork as a fucking executive and it's—it's like, _why?_"

She was getting upset again, her eyes prickling with angry tears, and she couldn't stop herself. This had been going on for too long. She had gotten her hopes up too high.

"Why is he getting that?" she asked Rachel like she knew. "What has he done for this company but give it a nice piece of ass for a spokesperson?"

"You're more than a—"

"I'm so sick of hearing that," Santana cut her off, "if I was more than that, then I would be getting the fucking promotion, not that guy. Not that _fucking_ guy. That asshole has done nothing for this company."

"I think he's done a lot, actually," Rachel said quietly, glancing nervously up to her eyes, "in a very round about way."

Santana stopped breathing, and for a moment Rachel thought she was going to be slapped, but Santana only said, "You have two seconds to explain yourself."

"You probably don't want to hear this," Rachel swallowed nervously, but too determined to make her point, "please bear with me and ask yourself if you would always be working so hard if you didn't feel like you constantly had to disprove his image of you? Would you have really turned the company around so quickly? Would you have put in half the effort, if everyone accepted you at face value and you had no reason to make them see any different?"

Santana's eyes narrowed slightly, "I don't owe him anything."

"You don't," Rachel shook her head, "no, I've seen the evil in that man, that's not what I'm trying to say. Your work effort is excellent in spite of him making you hate this company, and I'm not trying to credit him in any way. I'd just like to make it known that while he thought he was suffocating you into submission, he was actually giving you the fuel to burn beyond his control."

Santana stared until Rachel continued, trying to explain herself further.

"Eventually, it got to the point where you were working so hard that people _had_ to notice your influence here, your artistry at your craft... I mean, Brittany sure noticed."

She wasn't sure if it was Brittany's name, or Rachel's kind and soothing voice, but Santana found it in herself to calm down. Maybe she had just burnt herself out.

"I never pegged you as some sappy optimist," Santana grumbled, slipping her fingers under her glasses to wipe her eyes.

Rachel gave her a small smile, "I'm not saying it's fair, because it's no where close to fair at all. I... I hate seeing him get under your skin, and if he's going to Seattle, then good riddance. We should be celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

Their eyes snapped over to the door where Quinn was standing, her hand still on the doorknob and looking a little lost at the sight of them. Santana was quick to remove herself from Rachel's personal space.

Santana walked around the desk, rubbing her cheeks again to make sure there was no trace of tears, "Quinn, you wouldn't believe what I just—"

"San—Santana were you crying?" Quinn cut her off quietly, finally shutting the door for privacy. She looked to Rachel for an answer, her face still nearly dazed.

"Yeah," she scoffed sarcastically, "I've been crying in your girlfriend's lap for the past ten minutes because Jesse St. James hurt my feelings real bad."

Quinn looked from Santana, who was rolling her eyes, to Rachel, who was shrugging.

"I can't tell if you're being serious or not," Quinn offered dryly. She was concerned and wanted a straight answer.

"That's actually exactly what happened," Rachel admitted from the desk chair. Quinn turned to Santana to have her explain, but Santana didn't give her the chance.

"Are you okay?" Santana studied the blonde closely, "you look a little out of it yourself."

Quinn let out a small laugh, as if remembering something funny from the day before. She ran her hands through her hair, a nearly unbelieving smile came to her face, "I um, guess who I just met."

Santana only had to think for a moment, "Sue Sylvester?"

That took the wind out of Quinn's sails, she looked ridiculously perplexed that Santana was so easily able to guess her mystery acquaintance, but the smile stayed on her face, "Yes, actually, I've just come from a meeting with her."

Santana was on guard instantly, waiting for Quinn to start talking about empty promises and a better future.

"She's making me Head of Marketing," Quinn shrugged, she still couldn't believe it, "I take over after the expo."

"You got the job!" Rachel was standing before Santana could even process the news.

Jesse was on his way out and Sylvester replaced him with Quinn. While Santana would still have loved to see Jesse torn apart, this sure made that disappointment a little easier to handle. Brittany mentioned that Sylvester had her eye on Quinn, maybe not all of her promises were empty.

"Quinn, this is awesome," Santana squeezed her friend's shoulder because Rachel was still hugging her. "You totally deserve it."

"The only shitty part is that Jesse—"

"Is getting that promotion," Santana finished for her. "Yeah, he just told me all about it."

Quinn nodded, understanding that was the reason Santana had been upset. She wasn't really happy with it either, but she wouldn't let it ruin her own promotion.

Rachel moved away so that Quinn could hug her friend, and Quinn spoke quietly as she opened her arms to Santana, "You know this means I call all the shots about your PR, right?"

"I wouldn't want anyone else," Santana smirked lightly. It was so true, she trusted Quinn unconditionally, she hoped that Quinn could feel it in the hug.

With Quinn at the reins, that was one less thing to worry about. Jesse was on his way across the country, Quinn had moved into a position where she could actually protect Santana instead of just running interference. Actually, with Jesse gone, Santana wasn't sure what she really needed to be protected from.

Quinn caught Santana's eye as they pulled away, "Things are going to change, San, I promise. I'm going to tear up that department. Sylvester gave me the liberty to purge my entire personnel roster, anyone I want, gone."

"That's kind of badass," Santana had to admit.

"And completely reasonable," Rachel nodded, "that is going to be your biggest hurdle Quinn, the personnel that were loyal to St. James."

"I'm not going to go easy on any of them. Hopefully I'll be able to get my department up to par with yours," she smiled at her friend, enjoying the words on her mouth. My department.

"Not a chance, Fabray," Santana smirked, "IT runs this joint, everybody knows that."

"Give me a year," Quinn challenged.

Santana nodded, accepting that if anyone could do it, it would be Quinn.

* * *

><p>"Let's talk it out. What do we know?"<p>

"We know that Jesse St. James is a god damn asshole."

There was a pause.

"True, but I don't think that's really the most useful piece of information in the world."

Santana sighed, continued typing, and rephrased, "We know that Sylvester gave him a really cushy promotion to executive in Seattle."

There were three screens in front of her, two filled with work, the third was a screen saver; the picture of her glasses on the blonde's notebook—stolen from Brittany Facebook. A representation of their closeness in seemingly mundane objects. Santana squinted at her screens; work, work, work. Last minute prep for the expo. She wanted to get everything finished tonight so that she didn't have to do anything tomorrow night, then maybe she could someone get at least an hour of sleep before the big day.

Already, her projects were finalized, presentation approved and she couldn't be prouder—or more nervous.

Small details needed to be worked out. The personnel needed to facilitate the event, the equipment they were missing at this morning's set up, the schedule, the arrangements, the displays. Most everything was already decided by Quinn and her gang of event gurus, but Santana was particular. Everything needed to be addressed, considered, and approved. Most of Quinn's decisions were correct and exactly how Santana would want them; they had been doing this together for quite some time.

It was the one in a million detail that Santana needed to change to feel like everything was going to be prefect. Or as close as she could get it. So that this expo could run smoothly.

"Right," Brittany ran her hands soothingly up and down Santana's sides, "and even though he totally doesn't deserve it, now Quinn has his old job, and he's on the other side of the country... you have to admit this helps you out a little."

Santana sat back to face the woman she was sitting on top of. This was the second lap she's found herself in and she much preferred this one and their position. Brittany was sitting in Santana's desk chair and facing away from the computer. The brunette, on her lap and with her legs on either side of the the blonde's waist, was facing the computer, her arms reaching around pale shoulders to reach her keyboard.

"It helps St. James out too," Santana frowned, still upset.

They had started this, tucked away in Santana's basement, as Brittany's way to cuddle with the woman as she worked. She knew Santana needed to finish her work, she knew it was important, she just really wanted to be close to her too.

"But now you don't have to worry about tiptoeing around him," Brittany tried to reason, "you know he was always going to be a threat no matter what kind of stuff you had on him."

Santana's brow furrowed, her eyes glancing back and forth between Brittany's. She was being dramatic and pouty and she couldn't see the silver lining, but she could see the trepidation in Brittany's eyes; Santana was upset and Brittany felt like it was her fault. Like she had let her down by asking her to trust in some crazy blonde widow.

She kissed her lightly, "Everything you're saying is true, Brittany. It's all true. I'm being hateful and petty."

"I think you're allowed," Brittany reassured her, squeezing her hips lightly and pulling them closer together. "Next to Artie, I don't know who's runied your life more."

"That's exactly why I wanted to see Sylvester throw him off the roof," Santana admitted. "This is just so... unsatisfying."

Brittany hesitated for a second, "I don't know, maybe... she did it on purpose, to get him away from you... and what if there's more to it than that?"

Santana didn't understand, she trailed her fingertips down the side of Brittany's face, "What do you mean?"

"Okay, putting Quinn in charge of marketing kind of made sense, she's been applying for that job for a while and she's been working so closely to the marketing team because of you, because lets face it, you are Clockwork's marketing strategy."

"Unfortunately," Santana mumbled.

"But like," Brittany looked up to Santana with a skeptical face, "what makes Jesse right for this job? It's way up the ladder to be a normal promotion for someone like him."

"I don't know, Britt," Santana was just as puzzled, "you know he schmoozes the executives though, maybe he knows the right people?"

Brittany wasn't convinced, "The people that Sylvester's already fired?"

"She hasn't fired all of the bigwigs."

"All of Jesse's favorites," Brittany nodded, "Rachel and Quinn were going over it with Sunshine in the office the other day. They were hoping that Jesse would get nixed too."

"Why doesn't Rachel just send in Sunshine again and have her get the scoop?" Santana shook her head, she wasn't getting her hopes up again about some crazy plot devised by a woman she's never met. A woman that refuses to meet her.

"Because Sunshine is a columnist now," Brittany said like she didn't hear Santana's sarcasm, "she writes about up and coming artists around the city, it was part of their deal."

"Hm," Santana glanced over Brittany's shoulder to the work she needed to be doing, "are your legs falling asleep?"

"No," Brittany smiled. She ran her hands up Santana's thighs, around her hips and across her back, wrapping her up in a hug. "I love you, and I'm really sorry that you didn't get to see him get what was coming to him."

Santana kissed the top of Brittany's head and hugged her back, "It's alright, Britt. This is probably life's way of telling me that I need to get the fuck over it."

Brittany's shoulder's shook as she laughed.

"It is really cool that Q's in charge now," Santana shrugged, "she was telling me about some of her ideas, I've really liked all of them."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah... besides, I said I want to focus on you more," Santana admitted quietly, "and I can't really focus on you if I'm bitching about him."

Brittany was smiling shyly when she looked back up at Santana, her arms tightening around her slender frame, "I love you."

"I love you too, Brittany."

"Can I take you out?"

Santana blinked, surprised at the question, "Like a date?"

"Duh a date, silly," she laughed a little, "like we were talking about this morning."

Santana kissed Brittany's forehead to hide her blush, "When?"

"The night after the convention. You're going to do so well, I know we're gonna need to celebrate."

She was so confident when she said it that Santana had to believe that it was true, "It's a date."


	37. Chapter 37

Santana woke first when the phone on the nightstand started ringing. Brittany groaned, shifting closer and pressing her forehead against Santana's shoulder, blatantly pretending it didn't exist.

"Britt," Santana blinked at the bright light the buzzing contraption was making, "that's your phone."

"Make it stop."

Because she was technically closer, being the little spoon and all, Santana easily reached out to pick up the phone, squinting with sleep blurry eyes to read the name on the display, "It's Rachel."

"Answer it."

"It's your boss—"

Brittany's muttered "please," was gentle in contrast to the heel that nudged Santana's shin. With a sigh, Santana engaged the call, "Rachel, why are you calling so early?"

There was a pause on the other end,_ "...Santana?"_

"Yeah," she fell back onto the bed again, "Brittany's asleep, what did you need so early in the morning. She can't possibly be late for work."

_"No! No, of course not, but that is exactly why I'm calling. Quinn has informed me that you will be taking the day off to relax in preparation for you exhibition tomorrow."_

"Did she now," Santana rubbed her eyes, feeling Brittany shift closer, arms wrapping around her waist.

_"Yes, and I was trying to contact Brittany to ask her if maybe she felt sick today?"_

"Excuse me?" Santana hadn't caught up yet.

_"I was inquiring, if perhaps Brittany might be feeling ill, as in unable to come to work, as in free to do other things with her time today?"_

Santana would have rolled her eyes if they were open. She took the phone away from her mouth and asked, "Britt, Rachel thinks you might be sick and you should stay in bed all day. Are you feeling sick?"

Brittany coughed twice from behind her.

"Yeah, she's feeling a under the weather," Santana told the editor. "I'm sure it's just a bug, she's be ready to go for tomorrows gig."

_"Excellent!"_ Rachel sounded quite pleased with the news. _"Thank you, Santana. I hope you have a great day, and good luck tomorrow."_

"Thanks..." Santana took a gamble, "is Quinn with you?"

_"Um, yes... would you like to speak to her?"_

"Yeah, if you wouldn't mind."

She heard the phone shuffle, _"San?"_

"Hey, did you put Rachel up for this?"

_"No, I promise,"_ Quinn stiffed a yawn. _"I'm going into the office today and I'll call you if I need anything from you, or if anything changes, but try to relax today, alright?"_

"Alright, cool," Santana was sure that no matter what she did today, she would enjoy it because Brittany was going to spend it with her.

_"And Kurt's dropping off your outfit this afternoon."_

"Have you seen it?" Santana frowned, hating that part of her life.

_"It's cute, Brittany will like it."_

Santana snorted, because Quinn was saying that like she would wear anything as long as Brittany approved. It might be true. Santana paused a moment before saying, "I'm sure she will. I'll let you go... and tell Rachel I said thanks, for giving Brittany the flu or whatever."

_"I will,"_ there was a smile in Quinn's voice._ "Talk to you later."_

"Bye."

Santana clicked off the phone and set it down. Brittany was quick to draw her back into the warm sanctuary. Her back close to the warm chest behind her. A tickle of breath on her shoulder. Lazily, nimble fingers worked odd patterns into her stomach.

Santana found it hard to trouble herself over the future when her current existence was so comfortable.

* * *

><p>Santana swung her racket in a slow testing motion, warming up her arm and watching Brittany stretch unabashed. She watched because she was allowed and she had been assured, on more than one occasion, Brittany liked it when she stared. Especially when they were alone, locked away in a room without windows, the only sounds were the scuffs of their shoes, and the whisper of a racket through the air.<p>

Brittany pulled her arm over her chest the material of her tee shirt pulling tight around her waist, exposing a sliver of skin at her stomach. When Santana noticed a mark, the small shape of a bruise, she smirked. She had made that last night when a kiss had turned into something more and what was left was a hickey.

"You're staring," Brittany pointed her racket at the woman across from her. She loved it, but she also loved calling Santana out. She didn't blush and advert her eyes the way she used to and Brittany was glad that she was getting comfortable with the idea that she wasn't being disrespectful when her eyes lingered a little too long.

Santana frowned, playfully thoughtful, "No, I don't think I am."

"Then, what are you doing?" Brittany asked lowering her arms, looking forward to the answer.

"I would call it, appreciating," Santana closed the few feet of distance separating them until there wasn't a breath of space between them, her eyes meeting Brittany's. She said it with such a true affection, an honest reverence that made Brittany blush.

Brittany tilted, shifting her body weight to one leg and placing a soft kiss on Santana's cheek, "Call it whatever you want, I like it."

"Are you ready to lose," Santana leaned forward, kissing her shoulder, and taking the hem of Brittany's shirt in one hand. This was one more thing Santana had grown more comfortable with, small displays of affection. In public or not, Santana had surprised her by holding her hand into and threw the gym, Brittany adored them, "again?"

"You're on," she stepped away an pulled a rubber ball from the pocket of her basketball shorts. "My serve?"

"Go for it," Santana waved her on, "you're going to need the head start."

It was subtle, but the blue eyes watching her definitely narrowed at her taunt. Brittany's competitive side was crawling out and Santana was ready for it. She adored it, the hint of tension in the air and the excitement of a challenge. Santana took her place at the back of the court and waited for the serve. She wanted to win, sure, but more than that, she wanted to push herself because she knew Brittany would be doing the same thing.

Brittany licked her lips and adjusted the racket in her hand, "Let do this."

They started relatively slow, remembering the game, the way each other played, their own strengths and weaknesses. Too soon Santana had won back the serve and Brittany was walking towards the back of the court to receive.

"That was a good hit," she called over her shoulder as she took her spot.

Santana smiled from the box, "Thanks."

"I'm still going to win," Brittany decided, her voice aloof and playful.

Santana just laughed, bouncing the ball a few times before she served. Brittany was quick to return, what she lacked in practiced skill she made up for in confidence. She never stutter stepped, never hesitated to move, and her natural grace was a point in her favor. Santana, while she knew the game, how to play the angles and the rebounds, was also incredibly determined.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Brittany let out a short breath, a little taxed from the play and from watching Santana sprint across the court to return the ball so fast that she barely had time to catch herself before she ran headlong into the wall.

"Whats a few bruises when I'm winning?" Santana sent her a sly smile, taking the server's box again.

"For now."

"Three to one."

"How did you even—"

Santana was in the middle of her back swing when the question interrupted her concentration. She stilled her racket, refusing to make a sloppy serve, and caught the ball when it bounced. Looking over to her opponent, Santana raised an eyebrow to prompt her to continue.

"Oh, sorry," Brittany smiled a little sheepishly, "I didn't mean to mess you up."

"No," Santana shrugged it off, "what was your question, Britt?"

"How did you get into racket ball?"

"Blaine," Santana gestured to her made herself ready to serve again, and with a glance over her shoulder to make sure Brittany was ready, she started the game back up again. "I hate cardio, so he needed to find a way to make it interesting for me."

"Or else you would complain too much," Brittany teased, returning the serve and sending Santana across the court for the ball.

Santana was able to hit it, but it was an awkward angle against the far right side of the court. Brittany was starting to use her left handedness to her advantage. She was learning, Santana was happily impressed.

"Do you win against him?"

"Eventually. It took me a while, and he hits really hard compared to me and you."

They talked softly, their words bouncing off the walls with the ball and the sounds of their feet. Neither ever took their eyes off the ball.

"I was so jealous the first time I came here and saw you with him."

Santana looked over to the woman for the first time and missed her return entirely, the rubber ball bouncing carelessly against the back wall and rolling towards them on the court. Brittany didn't notice and was still waiting for Santana's return. When she realized it wasn't coming she turned around, finding Santana picking up the rubber ball.

"No way," she tossed the ball to Brittany who caught it easily, too curious to be frustrated at her error, "really?"

"Yeah," Brittany let out a short laugh, ducking her head and moving to the serving box, "I was trying really, really, hard to not get caught checking you out and he was like, all over you."

"He was not all over me," Santana snorted. She was flattered, remembering how hard it was for her to keep her eyes off of the journalist during their first game together.

"No," Brittany mumbled, spinning the racket in her hand, "but it was hard, because at the time, you weren't mine, and he was there, and you were _comfortable_ with him..."

Brittany looked up to her girlfriend, who was now officially hers.

"And I wanted that, Santana, the closeness. I wanted you."

Santana licked her lips, scratching her eyebrow and trying to hide her blush.

"I know you wanted me too," Brittany laughed.

"I did," Santana admitted softly. "I wanted you so bad."

They picked back up where they left off, Brittany making two points and matching Santana's score before she was forced to hand over the serve.

"Three to three," Santana served, drawing back to wait for Brittany's return.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched Brittany move and hit the ball, Santana drew her racket back, ready to strike—

"How badly did you want me?"

She missed the ball entirely and the wayward momentum almost sent her toppling to the ground. She huffed shortly, annoyed with herself and confused if she heard the question right. Wiping her hand on her shorts, Santana glanced behind her. Brittany was already gathering up the ball an eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer.

"What did you say?" she asked, hoping she had heard wrong.

"How badly?" Brittany shrugged causally, moving towards the serving box. "For me it was crazy, there was this one time when I couldn't remember a single thing from that morning's COG. I spent the whole time staring at your reflection in the computer monitor."

Santana's mouth hung open slightly, partially because she was breathing heavy from the game, partially because she wasn't used to questions like this and wasn't sure how to answer it. Talk about how she had been pining over her office shadow ever since she stepped foot into Clockwork? Did she want to know about the desk fantasies, or the times when she would get so caught up watching the blonde writing in her notebook that she had stopped typing all together? Brittany didn't really give her a chance, she was getting ready to serve and Santana had to pull her focus to try to return it.

She didn't.

"Four to three," Brittany smiled and causally continued their conversation, "I had this dream about our elevator once."

_Our_ elevator.

The elevator that was solely for them. Santana's get away, her escape, shared with fewer than three people. There was so many times that, if she had the nerve, Santana wanted nothing more than to lean over and truly say good morning to the journalist. She shifted from foot to foot, thinking about all the inappropriate thoughts that she had over Brittany's time at Clockwork. All the things she had wanted and never thought she could have.

"I um—" Santana was cut off by Brittany's serve, strong, and quick. She was barely able to return it this time, and finally they picked up a volley. Hit for hit, Santana found her rhythm and pointedly pushed the images of herself and Brittany out of her head. She was just about seal the deal, drawing back for her kill shot—

"You never answered my question."

Santana was able to strike the ball, but the last second distraction was enough to ruin her grip. The racket turned on impact and the ball went flying straight up, into the ceiling.

Brittany caught the ball, with a surprising ease and the barest smirk on her face, "Five-three."

"Britt," Santana's eyes narrowed in a small display of indignation, "you think you're sneaky, but your verbal interference is not as subtle as you think."

She laughed, the warm sound echoing around the court. Santana listened, watching her scuff her tennis shoe along the hardwood, a blush spreading over her face from being caught. Santana forgot that she was supposed to be annoyed by cheating, until Brittany said, "I'm still winning."

"Not for long," Santana took her sport to receive and the game continued.

Now that she had been accused of cheating, the questions stopped, and Brittany's efforts doubled. Refusing to be bested, Santana kept up with her pace, matching her point for point.

When Santana won back the serve after a vicious rally that made no headway to a winner, Santana glanced at the digital clock embedded in the wall. Her lungs were burning, her tee shirt soaked, and she was feeling quite alive. Santana placed one hand on the wall behind her and looked over to where Brittany was in a similar state, her hands on her knees and panting.

"We've been tied for the past ten minutes," Santana mentioned.

"Sevens, right?" Brittany asked, straightening as she tucked her racket between her legs, pulling the bottom of her tee shirt up to wipe sweat from her face.

Santana's heart pounded, for an entirely different reason than physical exertion. That woman, the lighthearted, playful, intelligent, writer that had driven her up the wall for the better part of her stay at Clockwork, was gorgeous. In a tee shirt and shorts, Brittany was all sleek curves and soft shapes. The hint of definition in the muscle just above her knees, the wonderful slope of her calves; that was one of the few pieces of skin Santana had been able to see at first, visible only in a business casual skirt.

Santana could, embarrassingly, recall the day she counted the time Brittany had crossed and recrossed her legs, because she had watched each time. The skirt of the day was shorter than usual, and Santana couldn't have ignored it for all the professionalism in the world.

Brittany simply drove her crazy.

She was moving forward before she realized it. Drawn by a siren's call of glistening abs and the delicate flair of pale hips. Brittany was dropping her shirt from her face as she stepped withing reaching distance.

She smiled, a little curiously, pausing with her hands still in her shirt near her neck, "Did you want to call it a game?"

"How about," Santana dipped, resting her racket on the ground with a small clatter, the ball bouncing away freely. When she rose to met Brittany's eyes again, she found Brittany's eyes less curious and more craving. Brittany had always been very good at reading her, realizing her mood before Santana could even get a handle on her own emotions. She knew when Santana wanted to cuddle, a gentle reassurance of love, and she knew when Santana wanted more.

Her hands, now free of sports equipment, engaged themselves with Brittany's waist. Thumbs trailing over sweat slick skin, "We play a different kind of game."

"I'd still win," Brittany breathed, leaving her shirt bunched around her still heaving chest, to pull Santana in for a kiss.

Brittany could feel Santana's body heat meld with hers, closing the distance until they were flush at more places than just their lips. Still she pressed further, hands guiding, feet working, moving them backwards until Brittany's back was pressed against the back wall. Santana's tongue ran across her bottom lip and Brittany decided it was time to drop her racket.

Santana chuckled into their kiss, her hips pinning Brittany's to the wall, hands tracing the stomach that started it all. Brittany was just as quick with her hands, slipping into the back of Santana's shirt, she raked her nails along the woman's spine, feeling the shiver beneath her fingertips, the subtle arch further into her body against the wall.

"What if someone comes in?" Brittany asked, her eyes squeezed shut at Santana's mouth working down her neck.

"We're against—the door," Santana mumbled into her skin between open mouth kisses, "as long as you stay—right here," she pressed the heels of her hands against Brittany's hipbones, fingers biting into the soft flesh around them, "we'll be fine."

Brittany had another question but she forgot it as the lips on her neck, in that place just above her collarbone, started sucking. Her head fell against the door behind her. Fingers worked up her exposed stomach, mapping out curves and crevices, dabbling along lower edge of her sports bra.

"Santana."

Santana made a small humming noise, tracing her lips over Brittany's pulse until she reached her jaw, nipping lightly at the skin there.

"I love you."

Santana spoke into her temple, "So much."

Brittany clutched her hips as Santana's slipped under the tight elastic of her sports bra. Santana's mouth caught her gasp. She could feel the smile in those lush lips, kissing her in a way that was both languid and wanting. Brittany had to pull back when her nipple was teased between two fingers, a panting moan falling against Santana's cheek.

"You want to know how crazy it was for me?"

Brittany's mind reeled, trying to catch up with Santana's words, "Wha?"

"How many times I would force myself to look something up on my tablet, just for something to do, so I wouldn't be tempted to stare at you?"

Brittany whimpered, from the low sound of Santana's voice, and the thigh working it's way between her own. Her body arched from the door, seeking more contact wherever she could get it.

"How many times I thought about doing this," she rolled her hips into Brittany's, "on my desk."

Brittany grasped at her, one arm over her shoulders, the other on Santana's hip, urging her on.

"On the couch in my office."

Santana tongue ran along the shell of Brittany's ear, earning another moan.

"In the lab."

Brittany quaked, the hand on her chest, the whispers in ear, the too gentle motion between her legs, "San..."

"You've been driving me crazy since that first interview," Santana sucked lightly on her earlobe, worrying it between her teeth, "since you first stepped foot in my basement, since you got under my skin and into my head like no one else."

"Santana," her voice was weak, her arms pulling her lover closer, hips begging for more contact.

Santana put one hand on the side of Brittany's face, urging her to meet her eyes. When she did, when Santana was staring into the deep blue eyes that saw her for who she truly was before she could see it herself, she admitted, "You'll never know what you've done for me, Brittany."

Brittany's hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking over her cheeks, "Oh San, anything. I—I'd do anything for you."

Santana kissed her, trying to tell her how much it meant to her, just the promise of that. Somewhere the kiss, and their bodies, transformed sentimental into sensual and Santana's hips rocked into Brittany's with a firmer and firmer presser. Their bodies warm, breath thready, hearts pounding against ribs. She pulled away, smirking when Brittany tried to follow, she whispered, "Let me do something for you right now."

Santana pressed one last kiss to her lips, then her neck, moving lower, scraping her teeth against a nipple as she passed, still moving lower. Brittany didn't realize what was happening until Santana's hips moved away when she fell to her knees. Fingers dipping into the waistband of her shorts, asking permission.

"San," Brittany's stomach flipped.

There was something about Santana on her knees in front of her, the look in her eyes like she wanted to be no where else, that was significant in a way Brittany only understood in the deepest parts of her intuition.

"You don't have to—like this—come back up—"

"Please," Santana asked in a small breath, nearly inaudible, fingers tugging gently at the material of Brittany's shorts. "I—I want this. I want you, like this."

Brittany lifted a hand to brush back a damp strand of dark hair away from the beautiful eyes looking up at her. When she nodded, they lit in a nearly rouge excitement, and Santana shuffled forward, placing a kiss just inside Brittany's hipbone. The muscles under her lips twitched, and she peppered light kisses along the thick waistband as she slowly lowered it, uncovering more and more precious porcelain skin.

If Brittany was unnerved by her exposure, it didn't show, or maybe she was too preoccupied with the suckling mouth under her navel, the hands running up her bare thighs, cupping her ass and finally resting on her hips. They steadied her against the door, a small gesture that was a large sense of security.

Santana could hear Brittany's soft and shallow breath, the skin under her hands slick from sweat, the radiating heat only getting warmer as she trailed kisses lower, and lower, until her lips graced over the juncture between Brittany's legs, flushed and heated from the friction of Santana's thigh.

"Shit," Brittany was already near breathless.

Her hands running along the walls for something to hold onto, it was useless, there wasn't even a protruding doorknob. Santana held her steady, kissing a feather light path along Brittany's natural seam. Forgoing her search for stability, Brittany leaned heavily into the door, hands clasping over Santana's forearms along her thighs.

She was glad for the reaffirmed grip, because as soon as Santana's tongue made it's presence known Brittany nearly lost it. The moan that tumbled from her lips echoed through the empty court, bounced off the walls, encouraging her lover over and over again. Santana didn't need much encouragement. Her thumbs were working small circles near Brittany's hipbones as her tongue worked circles elsewhere. In a place that was much hotter, much wetter, and was driving Brittany crazy.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, hands gripping tight, chest heaving. She could feel the sensations building, the tension, the need. Subconsciously, her hips started rocking forward, one hand dropping to Santana's hair, brushing over lightly because it was still pulled back. Santana's tongue dipped lower—deeper, filling her.

"San," Brittany's thighs quaked, hips canting, meeting her rhythm.

She lost herself in Santana, the blazing sensations her mouth was causing, the comforting grip on her hip, the hand that found it's way between her legs to assist the wayward tongue. Brittany was surrounded by them, the feeling against her body, the smell of their sweat and musk in the air; her pants, moans, and Santana's name reverberating along the walls around her.

One hand fell against the strong shoulder under her as she curled into herself, the other stayed wrapped around the dark ponytail, keeping her close as Brittany lost the last bit of control she had. Brittany was barely able to open her eyes to meet Santana's, they were shining with a selfless love that made Brittany's heart swell.

She was so beautiful.

Santana's fingers, or her tongue, or a mixture of both, brought her to the edge and happily pushed her over. A jumble of something that could have been English filled the room, Santana's name scattered in. She shook, being held on her feet by Santana's will alone. Oblivious, to anything but the tingling aftershocks of her orgasm, Brittany was just barely able to realize that she was sinking, that somehow her shorts were being guided back up her thighs, that her body was welcomed down gently by strong hands as Santana sat back on her rear. She fit nicely, knees falling to either side of Santana's waist. Her arms fell over Santana's shoulders and Santana hugged her waist, kissing her neck softly.

"I love you," she murmured into dark hair.

"I love you too, Brittany," Santana squeezed her waist tighter.

Brittany leaned back, so she could find the woman's face, hold it in her hands and kiss her. Running her tongue along Santana's pouted lip, she let out a content sound at the taste.

"I told you I would win," Brittany sank in closer to her body and drawing small shapes at the base of her neck.

"I think that's debatable," Santana's eyes flickered about, taking in the color in her cheeks, the lopsided smile, the ever present shine of sweat. In a quieter voice she said, "You're really pretty."

The color in Brittany's cheeks darkened, blooming from her neck, "If you're trying to get me to return the favor, it's working."

Santana chuckled, kissing her cheek, and drawing Brittany impossibly closer. Brittany made a small sound when their hips connected, "Nah, I think it's about time we got out of here."

"Just," Brittany rested her forehead against Santana's shoulder, taking a deep breath. Santana smelled wonderful, her deodorant mixing in with sweat and lingering trace of Brittany. "Can I have like, a minute to chill out?"

"Sure, B."

Santana rubbed small circles in the small of her back, until the sweat started to dry uncomfortably along their skin, until her legs started to fall asleep from the weight of the woman in her lap. Santana was perfectly content to wait until Brittany was ready to move. It seemed like a small way to repay all the patience Brittany had afforded to her so effortlessly, but she was so happy to do it.

* * *

><p>Santana stared down at the animal brushing itself against her legs. This cat hadn't stopped bothering her, or Brittany, since they stepped foot inside the loft apartment after their fun at the gym. Brittany had even insisted that they shower separately so that one of them was able to keep him company. Apparently, Lord Tubbington had felt awfully neglected in Brittany's absence.<p>

Santana felt only vaguely guilty.

"I thought this cat hated me," she asked Brittany, stepping away from the island in the kitchen and towards the study area. Unfortunately, Lord Tubbington decided to follow her. She had hoped that he would find Brittany, his owner, much more interesting.

"He's starved for attention," Brittany smiled at her from where she was cleaning up after lunch. "I've been pretty much living at your house for the past couple of days. I'm surprised he hasn't broken out of here and come to find me. He's done it before, you know."

"So shouldn't he be all up on your shins?" Santana sank into Brittany's desk chair and waited for the inevitable. Sure enough, as soon as the large cat got to her feet he sank back on his haunches, wiggling to ready himself, and jumped into her lap.

"Aww, he likes you," Brittany cooed from the kitchen, sending her an adoring smile, like this was a really big deal.

"I'm surprised he can jump that high," Santana mumbled, watching the large cat arrange himself on her thighs and promptly collapse in a heap of fur and flesh. His head looked comically small for his body. His stripes thick a waving with the rise and fall of his ribs. This was seriously the fattest cat she had ever seen in her life.

"Santana," Brittany laughed at her from across the apartment, "why are you being so awkward with my cat? He's not going to bite you."

Santana looked dubious for a moment. The last time she was in this house, the cat seemed to want to set her of fire with his eyes, "You're sure?"

"Why don't you try petting him?" Brittany coaxed, wiping her hands on a dish cloth when she was finished tidying.

Santana sighed, resigning to take her arm from the chair and carefully work her fingers into the fur just behind the cat's ears. Did cats like being scratched behind their ears? Or was that dogs? Santana waited for a response and after a moment a dense rumbling spurred from him.

"It's purring."

"_He's_ purring," Brittany corrected her, walking across the apartment and kissing the brunette softly on the forehead, "and that's what cats do."

"I didn't mean to keep you away from him," Santana looked at the cat in her lap to hide her blush. She had been kind of pathetic the last couple of days, needing Brittany close for comfort.

Brittany pressed another kiss to the top of her head and reached down for the cat, scooping Lord Tubbington into her arms, "Don't be silly, Tubbs knows how much you mean to me."

Santana smiled at that, standing from the chair to follow Brittany and her cat into the living room area. They fell onto the couch together, Brittany turned against the armrest and threw her legs over Santana's lap. Santana's hands were much quicker about finding Brittany's knees and shins then they were about petting Lord Tubbington.

Brittany pointed to the other side of the couch and Santana was quick to hand her the remote control. She watched the channels flip, running her hands over Brittany's shins and thighs, her thumb working small circles into her knee. After her shower Brittany had donned a pair of blue sweat pants, the elastic bands at the end of each leg were pushed up to her knees and Santana traced the material.

"Tomorrow's you big day," Brittany glanced at Santana from over Lord Tubbington's head.

"It is," Santana reached over, stilling Brittany's thumb on the remote and turning back to a previous channel. When the program wasn't what she had thought it was, she let Brittany resume control.

"You excited?"

"Excited to get it over with," Santana admitted.

"Oh come on," Brittany nudged her heels into Santana's thigh, "the conventions are kinda fun, maybe you an I can sneak away and you can show me how awful everyone's products are compared to yours."

Santana snorted, "If I have time."

Her tone implied that she would make the time, and Brittany's smile told her that she caught it.

"Or maybe we could sneak off and..." Brittany's hand released the remote and slid up Santana's arm, tugging gently on her borrowed shirt sleeve, "you can show me something else."

Brittany was implying a completely different genre of events and Santana tried to keep from blushing, which was silly because she was the one the instigated the event in the racquetball court. She took her hand from her sleeve and brought it to her mouth for a light kiss, "You're a goof."

"And I love you," Brittany smiled softly, her hand pressing against Santana's cheek.

Santana leaned into the touch, letting Brittany's fingers trace part of her glasses that fell behind her ear, "I love you too, Britt."

"Did you need to do anything at the office today?" Brittany asked, taking her hand back to pet her cat.

"Nope," Santana shook her head. "They'll call me if they need anything, but Quinn's usually really good about distinguishing fires for me."

"You guys work really well together," Brittany's voice was mixed in with the deep rumble of Lord Tubbington's purring, "I'm really excited about her getting the marketing position."

"Yeah..." Santana palmed one of Brittany's calves, squeezing the meaty part in her hand, "I'm still waiting for whatever is coming with Sylvester. The IT Department is the only section she hasn't turned upside down."

"That's because your department is the only one that isn't messed up, Santana," Brittany reassured her. "You'll be fine."

"Yeah but..." she watched Brittany roll her ankle, feeling the movement of the muscle and tendons in her hands. "What if she's waiting until after the exhibition to pull a fast one on me, because we've already invested so much into it?"

"No matter what," Brittany told her seriously, "you're going to figure it out. You're very good at that, and you have plenty of people willing to help you too."

What she was implying was that, no matter what, she would be there for Santana.

"Now," she leaned closer and stole a quick kiss, "we're supposed to be relaxing, right?"

Santana let out a small breath of laughter, "Right."

Brittany nodded and turned towards the television, her thumb working through the channels with a purpose, "So let's stop worrying about that and start focusing about what really matters."

"What's that, B?"

"Adventure Time," Brittany flashed a playful smile, "duh."

* * *

><p>"You ready for this?"<p>

Santana looked up from her tablet. Brittany was walking into the Clockwork employee area behind their booth.

The way this convention was set up put the larger displays, Clockwork's included, along the walls, each with their own break area behind their display booth. Santana liked it because that meant she didn't have to travel around the floor any more than she absolutely needed to. Clockwork's booth was one of the largest Santana had ever set up. They had a small stage for Mike's presentations throughout the day. Sam was in charge of the products displays with all the latest in Clockwork equipment and software. Santana herself was going to be here helping out until she was called to the main stage for her own presentation.

She was so nervous and Angry Birds wasn't helping at all. Brittany's smile was an excellent distraction, not to mention her outfit; a skirt with matching vest over a light blue blouse that really brought out her eyes. Santana was the first to say, "You look really nice, Britt."

Brittany blushed, smoothing down her skirt needlessly, "Thank you, San."

"But you're missing one thing," she set her tablet aside and fished something out of her computer bag. Walking over to the blonde, Santana lifted her arms and Brittany ducked slightly to let the woman slip the lanyard over her head, "There, now you're officially Team Clockwork."

"Awesome," Brittany said bashfully. It was hard to keep from smiling like an idiot with Santana standing this close, her hands still playing with the lanyard, and looking up at Brittany with those dark eyes. Brittany has started calling them her secret-sharing eyes, because they said I love you without words. To keep herself from leaning down to kiss the woman, Brittany focused on something else, her hand slipping under her vest and to the inside pocket, "I got you this."

Santana finally dropped Brittany's lanyard to take the object she was holding out, "A pen?"

"Yeah, but it's not just any pen," Brittany said seriously, contradicting the smile on her face, "it has a smiley face on it and I took the ink cartridge out."

Santana studied the pen. It was a simple black click pen with silver smiley face gleaming in the light, "It's a happy, but entirely useless, pen?"

"I thought that you could hold it during your presentation," Brittany glanced over to the direction of the stages, "and if you break it, you won't get ink all over your hands because there isn't any."

Santana's smile was small, but incredibly pleased, "It's my new lucky charm."

Brittany would have said something but she was cut off by a voice behind her.

"Well, if it isn't the Shakira of Circuit Boards, herself."

They glanced over to the door and Santana couldn't believe it, "Holly?"

"In the flesh," Professor Holly Holiday's smile was beaming, already stepping forward to meet Santana for a hug.

"I can't believe this," Santana was flabbergasted and thrown for a loop and being wrapped up in a hug before she could get a firm grasp of the situation. It didn't matter, Holly's embrace was familiar and nostalgic like riding a bike for the first time since your childhood.

"It's so good to see you, Santana, and look at you!" she held Santana away by the shoulders to get a look at her, "girl, look at you. Have you been researching lately? You look smarter, gained a few IQ points, but they look great on you."

"Oh shut up," Santana rolled her eyes, flushed and embarrassed by the praise. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I'm going to be _hosting_ this lovely little event," she glanced around, smiling to Brittany when she caught her eye.

"Holly," Santana excited smile only grew, "that's a really big deal."

"I know," she rolled her eyes, like she couldn't believe she was even considered. "I wasn't the first pick of course. I'm a last minute sub in, apparently someone's wife decided to go into labor a week early and a contact of a friend of mine threw my name out. I would have told you last night when I booking my overnight, but I kind of wanted it to be a surprise."

Santana shook her head, still reeling, "Oh my god, what am I thinking? Brittany," she held out her hand and Brittany took it almost shyly, "Holly, this is Britt."

"Hi, I'm so excited that you're here," Brittany smiled brightly, holding out her hand, Holly ignored it and threw her arms around the journalist.

"I was hoping you would be here! I can not tell you how much I loved that article you wrote. You have a gift," Holly squeezed her tight. "It is so nice to meet you IRL."

Brittany pulled away, a puzzled smile on her face, "IRL?"

"In real life," Santana explained with an exasperated smile. "She thinks she's funny, using internet slang in normal conversation."

"I got the lowdown on the lingo," Holly laughed. "It's a big hit with my students. They think I'm the coolest professor ever."

"Or that you try too hard," Santana quipped, "I don't know, either one."

Holly sent her a wry look, cocking an eyebrow "As I remember it, chica, you thought I was the coolest professor on campus when you were running around UCLA."

"I'm pretty sure she still thinks that," Brittany chuckled at the flush on Santana's face.

"Yeah, well someone has to," Santana huffed.

Holly shared a smile with Brittany and said, "I'll be on stage all day introducing the different presentations, you girls should make your way up there if you have the time."

"We will," Santana was sure to find the time.

They talked for a few more minutes, catching up on who they knew was going to be at the exhibition, what was going on at Clockwork, and the UCLA drama Holly couldn't help but stir up. While Brittany knew enough about most of their conversation to add to it, she was very content to let Santana have this moment. The excited light in her eyes was infectious and Brittany much preferred to see that then the anxious look they held earlier.

"Well, technically, Britt's here working," Santana brought her back into the conversation with a proud smile. "She's covering the expo for her magazine. It's going to be a small follow up piece before she moves onto bigger and better things."

"Oh?" Holly asked with genuine interest. "What are you writing about next?"

"I um," Brittany flushed, feeling like her work was uncomplicated and not nearly as interesting compared to theirs, "Rachel's set me up with a few different offers. I'm leaning towards a story on up and coming dance company."

"Would it be kind of the same thing you did with San?" Holly asked curiously. "You follow them around and write an article?"

"We would have to figure that all out with the company," Brittany shrugged, "but pretty much, yeah."

"That would actually be really cool," Holly turned to Santana with an approving look, "think about learning about something completely different every few months? It would never get old. I would totally be into that."

"She's notorious for never teaching the same elective classes for more than two semesters at a time," Santana explained to Brittany.

"I like teaching different classes," the professor chuckled, "keeps me on my toes, new material can be so refreshing."

"Refreshing or not," Brittany sighed quietly, tucking a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear, "I'm really going to miss Clockwork."

She caught the brunette's eyes and knew it was obvious that by Clockwork, she meant Santana.

"It sucks not having someone obligated to listen to my rants," Santana joked to hide her blush under Holly's please grin.

"I'm sure Clockwork will miss you too, Britt," Holly spoke easily, using her nickname like they had been friends for as long as she's known Santana.

They chatted until Brittany was sure Santana had forgotten her nerves, she laughed openly, and smiled in a way Brittany was used to seeing only when she was out of her work environment. Holly was in the middle of a particularly funny retelling of how one of her robotics students nearly destroyed the entire lab when a convention worker came to gather her up for the stage prep and sound checks.

"I'll see you both later," she hugged them both in turn and Brittany was happy to feel that she had made a new friend. "Gotta go steal the show."

"They're lucky to have such a showboat for a speaker," Santana teased quietly, a small but giddy smile on her face.

"One more thing you could learn from me, hot stuff," she threw back smile as she walked out. "Just wait until you blow them away with your presentation!"

And like a switch, Santana's smile fell off her face, reminded of the wall of pressure and the thousands of people. Brittany nudged her shoulder lightly with her own, drawing her out of her thoughts, "Me too, you're gonna be great, Santana. I'm so excited for everyone else to see it."

She was so earnest, already so confident that Santana would succeed, that it was almost not even a question in Santana's head anymore. The people that cared about her were excited to see her accomplish everything they thought she was capable of and Santana was surprised to find a part of herself that was looking forward to it too. She wanted to own her presentation and make Brittany and Holly proud.


	38. Chapter 38

AN: Disclaimer to the tech talk. Tried my best.

* * *

><p>The arena filled with the hundreds of bodies that were expected to come. People from the industry, technology buffs, reporters, college students, and people out for a good time. They came to be a part of the biggest technology convention on this side of the country, to see the latest and the greatest.<p>

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to welcome you to the sixth annual Titans of Tech Expo!"

Santana had to smile at the sound of Holly's voice over the speakers around the arena. From her place at the Clockwork booth, she could see Holly's figure on the stage, but couldn't quite make out her face. It wasn't a problem though, a close up image was being displayed on the projection board behind her. She looked like she was having a blast.

"I can't believe she's here," Santana glanced at Brittany, finding her eyes sparkling with an amusement that Santana felt was out of place. She quirked an eyebrow and asked, "What?"

"Nothing," Brittany shook her head, but her smile only grew.

"Britt," Santana asked again, feeling out of the loop.

"Okay, fine," she glanced over to the stage and back to her girlfriend. "It's just really cute to see you around Holly."

Santana scratched her nose, embarrassed because she knew that it was so obvious that she looked up to the professor.

"I'm glad she's here," Brittany added at Santana's blush. "It's good for you. I'd rather see you like this than a bucket of nerves."

"Me too," she looked back to the stage, "I feel kinda better about presenting now. If anything crazy went down, Holly would totally be able to play damage control."

"That's great," Brittany looked her over carefully. It was true, Santana's posture had eased. Her eyes were more interested in the world around her, instead of distrusting. She wanted to make the most of it, asking, "You want to walk around the booths?"

Santana glanced at her watch, "Yeah, I don't think anyone needs me right now, but I gotta be back in an hour."

"Then let's get moving," Brittany took her arm in a gentle grip, urging her away from the Clockwork employee area. "I'd like to see more than just your products."

Santana rolled her eyes, a hint of a smirk coming to her face, "You mean you want to see what not to buy."

"Not really, I could care less about knowing what to buy, but I do care about listening to you talk about it," Brittany chuckled, "and you promised you would tell me _all _about it."

Santana didn't disappoint. She led Brittany through the displays, pointing out the products and software that she appreciated and the things that she didn't. They moved through the crowds easily, seemingly lost in the commotion. Brittany was both surprised and ecstatic about how affectionate Santana was being. It was subtle, placing her hand on Brittany's lower back as they passed through a particularly crowded part of the floor, small touches to her arm before she gestured to what she was talking about. Santana would even lean in close to whisper her negative commentary in Brittany's ear if one of the representatives was within earshot and she would pull back with a private smile. What Brittany loved the most was that Santana took her time to let Brittany study everything that came to her fancy. Even if she expected Santana to be bored with some of the booths, she could never see it in her eyes, or on her face.

Every once in a while, because it really was inevitable, someone would recognize Santana for more than just another tech buff. Sometimes they would just watch her walk by, some would nudge their friends to point her out. Brittany noticed it more than Santana, or maybe Santana was just actively ignoring the people around her that weren't Brittany. At any rate, the journalist was keeping a careful eye out for Artie, or anyone associated with the man. She wouldn't let him ruin this for Santana. Brittany did, however, have her eye on one particular patron of the expo; the person that had been following them since they left the Clockwork booth.

"I like those because they're pretty," Brittany pointed to a few flashy monitors.

"They have horrible resolution," Santana rolled her eyes at the display.

"Yeah, but they look pretty," Brittany replied absently. She wasn't looking at the monitors, she was looking over Santana's shoulder.

"Just because it looks pretty doesn't mean it's functional," Santana mentioned in a lightly teasing tone. "These are a total waste of money, you have horrible taste."

"You're pretty and functional," the journalist nudged her shoulder and sent her a smile, "so I guess my taste isn't all bad."

Santana sucked her bottom lip into her mouth to keep from grinning to widely, "Whatever."

"Santana, I need to tell you something," Brittany turned back to the display in front of them.

"What's that, Britt?" Santana glanced over at her, a flash of concern in her eyes.

"Don't freak out," she smiled at Santana's instant frown, "seriously, I don't think that it's a big deal."

Santana only frowned deeper, "What's wrong?"

"This girl has been following us since we left the Clockwork station," Brittany focused to keep Santana's eyes, so she wouldn't point the girl out.

Surprisingly, Santana didn't break eye contact to search for the accused stalker, "Do you know them?"

"Nope," Brittany shook her head lightly, looking at her nails and citing her memory, "she looks like a college student. She's wearing a college sweater... NYIT?"

"New York Institute of Technology," Santana frowned in a thoughtful manner this time. Did she know anyone from that area?

"Is that a good school?"

"Nothing's as good as Holly Holiday," Santana said seriously, almost relaxed, if not seemingly baffled at the girl's presence. She was still trying to keep from looking around, watching Brittany's lanyard sway instead. "This chick is really stalking us?"

"Us? Probably not," Brittany laughed quietly. "You? Most definitely. Like I said though, she doesn't give me creepy stalker vibes."

"Where is she?" Santana glanced around, for the first time trying to spot the assumed college student among the crowd.

"Over by that display with all the newfangled GPS things."

Santana found her, she was sure because as soon as she made eye contact the young woman looked away quickly.

"What's her deal?" Santana asked Brittany like she knew.

"I don't know," Brittany smiled slyly, glad for the opening, "lemme go find out."

Santana blinked and Brittany was already gone, "Britt!"

She could hear her girlfriend laughing as she walked away. Santana watched her tap on the girl's shoulder, startling her with a large smile and words that Santana couldn't hear. They, awkwardly, shook hands and Brittany gestured over to her, Santana wasn't even ashamed to be caught watching. She almost laughed at the look on her face when Brittany started ushering her across the hall. The closer they got, the more at ease Santana was with the situation. If anything the girl looked more scared of Santana than Santana could ever be of her.

"Santana," Brittany smiled warmly, "I want you to meet my friend, Mackenzie. She's studying Information Technology at NYIT."

"With a concentration on computer security," the girl adds in a quick ramble. She's nervous, her thumbs hooked into her belt loops in an attempt to look causal.

"Huh," Santana looked her over with an appraising eye, "so, why have you been following me around the convention?"

"Santana," Brittany scolded and Santana shrugged, a small grin on her face. Now that she realized that this college student wasn't a threat, she might as well have some fun with her.

"Oh fuck," the girl, fidgeted with the sleeve of her NYIT sweater, looking up at Santana with a shy glance, "Miss Lopez, I came to the expo to see if maybe..."

"It's okay," Brittany smiled encouragingly, "just ask."

Santana has the feeling that Brittany already knew what the student wanted to ask. She fumbled with the messenger bag over her shoulder and surprisingly extracted a magazine and a sharpie. Brittany nearly giggled, watching Santana's eyes dart between the girl, her copy of _The Lead_, and herself.

In the short pause, Mackenzie asked, "Would you sign this?"

"You want my autograph?" Santana asked, nearly skeptically. No one had ever asked for her autograph before. It seemed so... bizarre. People don't ask people like her for autographs. You're supposed to ask movie stars or singers for that stuff, not... not her. She caught Brittany's eyes and found them beaming, proud and excited for Santana's fan moment.

"I would have brought a copy of that paper you wrote on monitoring employee computers in the workplace..." she was quoting a paper Santana had presented at an IT conference last year. The topics and presentations had revolved around ethical practices in technology from a personal user to business scale. "...but this article made everything you've already written or done... like, that much cooler. So..."

Santana took the magazine and the pen and looked down at the magazine, seeing it again for the first time. She nodded her head to Brittany, asking, "You know she's the author right?"

"I wondered if you were Brittany, as in Brittany Pierce," the college student mumbled with an embarrassed blush.

"How many Brittany's do you think I know?" Santana asked with a wry smile. She signed the magazine with her best signature. "She's doing a follow up on the convention, she's the only journalist I would ever trust to do this thing right."

"Santana," Brittany rolled her eyes, but blushed all the same.

"Will you sign it too?" the student asked, quiet and hopeful. "That would make it like, perfect."

"Oh I couldn't, the author isn't the important part," Brittany laughed, nudging Santana playfully in the side, "the subject is."

Santana held the pen up and said, "She asked nice, Britt."

With her own bashful look, Brittany signed her name, right next to Santana's. The loop of her B crossing into the down stroke of Santana's flaring P. Santana noticed and appreciated the way their names fit together. She even adored the small smiley face Brittany drew near them. Brittany capped the Sharpie and handed it back the student.

"Now, when do you graduate?" Santana asked a little formally, "Are you in grad school or..?"

"Yeah, finishing up this year," she stowed her magazine into her messenger bag.

"You said you were interested in computer security," Santana raised an eyebrow in a small challenge. "Why don't you tell me about it."

"Actually, I've been doing this huge project about data abuse on mobile Apps. People have so much personal information stored on their smart phones and even with general policies on access rights, I don't think—" she hesitated, doubting her own opinion in the face of Santana Lopez of Clockwork Technologies, "I um, don't think that major corporations are doing enough about the threat to personal security."

"What about," Santana pondered for the sake of argument, "Apps that in their very own creation, gives users the ability to see what information can be shared to a third party?"

"You mean like SRT AppGuard?"

Brittany watched the student's eyes light, finding an enjoyment of the discussion and a comfort speaking about things she was passionate about. Santana's were matching, and Brittany could pick up the smallest hint that her girlfriend was already impressed with what the student had to say.

"And what are your plans," Santana inquired, "after your graduation?"

"I've been working on a few applications," she looked to Brittany, finding strength in her kind smile, "for a few internships or entry level positions along the coast."

"Well," Santana waved back towards the way they had come from, "Clockwork will start interviewing for its internship program in a few months. If you happen to make it back to the Clockwork booth, and ask for a man named Kurt, he'll take your information and you can consider yourself a very good candidate, Mackenzie."

She wasn't sure who was smiling wider, the student or the journalist next to her, but Santana had to smile along with them.

* * *

><p>"And now, if I could have your moderately divided attention," Holly was walking back onto the center of the stage as the last presenter moved off, "we will begin our main events, and get this party started!"<p>

There was a light uproar from the crowd, and Santana rolled her eyes at Holly's ridiculous smile.

"As you may know, the Titans of Tech originally started as a gaggle of obsessive college students getting together to troll about their tinkering and impress others with their ideas," Holly stood at the podium as stage hands rolled out props for the next event. "From the embarrassment of a borrowed basement, the gathering evolved into a meeting of sorts, then gained it's own status as convention, and finally earned enough experience points to level up into the exhibition that you see before you."

Many people around the stage started to clap, and Santana took a look around. The floor was full to a point where it was just under uncomfortable. The booths were from all sorts of companies and industry tycoons. People of all kinds of skill sets were meeting, discussing, networking. This really was impressive.

"While the products and ideas that have been showcased here have always become more advanced with time, there will always be a special place in our heart for the pioneers of the world around us. The ones that skirt the edge of the future and make more possible for us every day."

"This is one of my favorite parts of this thing," Santana leaned over to Brittany, whispering in her ear. After Santana has helped Sam with his presentation, they had taken refuge at the Clockwork booth to watch some of the events.

Holly continued her speech, "Each year names are submitted for, what I would like to refer to as a friendly competition, between industry leaders. While they already compete so adamantly for product sales and consumer attention, this competition brings it all back to square one. Who is the true Titan of Tech?"

"They pull people up to those desks and have like, a quiz bowl of technology questions," Santana pointed to the stage where two desks had been placed, facing each other and with desktop computers. "Last year this software designer was so damn impressive up there, he was offered a job at some big name company right on the spot."

"Really?" Brittany blinked, impressed, "Has anyone from Clockwork ever—"

"Our first nomination this evening will be," Holly opened an envelope while a drum roll played over the speakers. Holly hesitated at the name, her eyes glancing up into the audience. Santana frowned, noticing what others couldn't, the masked reserve and regret. It was blinked away before she smiled thinly, "From Orbit Technologies, Artie Abrams."

"Gross," Brittany said, scrunching her nose distastefully.

"Gag me," Santana agreed. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, crossing her arms and recrossing her legs. Leave it to Abrams to make her favorite part of this convention about him. She sighed quietly to herself and hoped that who ever was up against him own his ass.

"And for his competition," Holly called out the name of someone Santana had never heard of, from a company that she had no real experience with. She felt her hopes of Artie's loss slipping.

"Do you know who that is?" Brittany asked her.

"No," Santana saw that she was thinking the same thing, "but I hope he kicks Abrams' ass."

Brittany had to smile at that, "Me too."

She watched Artie appear from off stage, wheeling himself to one of the desks as a stagehand took the useless chair away and fitted him with a wireless headset microphone.

"This just in, folks," Holly came back to her podium after being called offstage, "unfortunately, Mr. Havens isn't able to make it today so we'll consult our list of contenders—"

"Excuse me, Miss Holiday?"

Santana watched the large image of her former professor ignore the man speaking behind her.

"—and be right back with—"

"Miss Holiday?" Artie spoke a fraction louder.

Holly turned from her podium, "It's still Professor."

Santana chuckled at the short tone in her voice, it was so very obvious that the woman still had a very healthy sense of disdain for the man.

"Professor, then, if I could make a suggestion," he looked at the camera and Santana felt the big projection version of his eyes staring down at her, "I'd like to make a challenge."

Holly's eyes narrowed, she tried to cut him off, "No, I think we'll stick to the—"

"I'd like to challenge Clockwork's Santana Lopez," his lip curled into a daring smile, "to be my competition."

His words rippled through he arena; heads turned, words were muttered, someone started clapping. Santana Lopez was just called out; it was exciting in the way a crowd likes. People always like to watch a competition, but it's even better if it's personal. Nothing beats a grudge match and that was exactly what Artie was implying.

Orbit vs Clockwork.

And because he said it to an arena full of people, the idea became law in a matter of seconds. Santana knew that's exactly what he was hoping for.

Artie Abrams had challenged Santana Lopez in the Titans of Tech challenge.

"God damn it," Santana hissed through her teeth.

Around her she could feel the eyes of her fellow Clockwork affiliates, smiling and clapping. They were excited for her chance to prove that Clockwork was the best. Excited for her opportunity. In retrospect she might take solace in the idea that all of them appeared to be very confident that she could take him on, but right now, she was just trying not to hyperventilate. Her chest was tight, shoulders tense. Santana wasn't sure when, but she had already started gripping her new pen for dear life.

Artie fucking Abrams.

He wanted to call her out in front of the entire industry. He wanted to try to make a fool of her, again. He wanted to make her vulnerable, anxious, uncomfortable, all over again. He was either banking on the idea that she wouldn't show, and look like a coward, or that she would feel pressured to compete and be so flustered that she loses, making her look like an idiot.

No.

Santana wasn't having any of it. She refused to feel anything but anger. She wanted to march onto that stage, embarrass him, then promptly roll him right off it. She realized that while he had the upper hand, he knew of her stage fright, he knew that she would be thrown off guard, he knew that she would always be thinking of what might appear on the screen above them; while she knew all of that, Santana realized that this was just as much of an opportunity for her.

She was going to prove to him that she deserved every bit of her success.

She was going to shut him down.

"Santana," Brittany took her arm and made her look at her. She saw the spark of fury mixed into the deep brown color. She took a risk and brushed a strand of Santana's hair behind her ear, keeping her focus entirely on her face, "You can do this. You know you can do this, right?"

Santana swallowed thickly, clenching her jaw and nodding, "I'm going to fucking bury him."

At that Brittany smiled a brilliantly proud smile, "That's my girl."

"Walk me up?" Santana whispered as she started to stand, straightening the hem of her blazer and the way her lanyard laid over her chest. She touched the pen Brittany had given her, just to be sure she still had it.

"Of course," Brittany linked their arms together and started guiding her girlfriend through the small exit in the back of Clockwork's booth. This route would take them to the back stage entrance with fewer interruptions and far less people.

Quinn, however, was the first person to find them, calling from behind them as she rushed to catch up, "Santana, wait!"

"Quinn," Santana turned, catching her friend off guard with a hug. She wasn't sure who it was meant to calm, herself or Quinn.

"San, you realize that this could be a big fucking trap right?" Quinn held her tight, "That he might be setting you up again?"

"Yeah," Santana pulled away, "and if he pulls another show-and-tell, then no one will ever be able to blackmail me ever again, Clockwork will drop me as their figurehead because I'll be a scandal, and we'll finally have something to prosecute him for."

Quinn and Brittany shared a look. Santana was over letting people control her. She had taken it to Jesse St. James and she'll take it to Artie. If he wanted to play dirty again, she didn't even care about the consequences by this point because she was so completely over it. The women standing in front of her would still love her if everyone knew the truth, if Artie embarrassed her again, if she lost her job at Clockwork and had to work at the Geek Squad inside a Best Buy the rest of her life.

They would still love her.

"Or," Santana continued her bitter anger fueling her resolution, "I can kick his ass in front of the entire industry."

"I like that idea better," Brittany licked her lips, while she knew Santana could do it, she was still worried. "I want you to beat him. I know you can and I want to see it."

"I want you to kill him," Quinn ran her hand through her hair, "and I mean _literally_, kill him."

Santana let out a small laugh, rumbling with nerves and the frustration she felt from her situation, "I'll do what I can, Q."

Holly was making her way towards them as soon as she was at the edge of the stage, being sure to shut off her wireless microphone on her ear, "Santana, I'm so sorry, you don't have to do this."

"You're fine," Santana assured her, glancing to the stagehands around them. "I do, I have to do this. I'm gonna do this."

Holly's eyes shifted around her face, finding the stubborn resolution, the thinly veil anger, "You got it, girl."

"San," Brittany gripped her shoulder, gaining her attention and holding up a microphone headset. With Santana's small smile as permission, Brittany set it in place. "I love you, so much. I'll be right here when you're done."

"I love you too, B," Santana pulled her into a tight hug, letting her lips press nearly discreetly against Brittany's cheek.

"Ladies and gentle nerds!" Holly had stepped onto the stage, faking enthusiasm with genuine pride for Santana, "I give you our challenger, the Head of Information Technology at Clockwork Tech, and my former student, the lovely, Santana Lopez."

"That's my cue," Santana gave Brittany one last look, squeezing her hand, and walked onto the stage.

The lights hit her before anything else. Before she became aware of the thousands of eyes on her, the cameras blasting her image on the overhead projector, the horribly devilish glint in Artie's eyes. She was surprised by the shear sound of the applause her appearance created, and she offered a small wave to the audience as she walked curtly to her place at the desk. She sat primly, tugging down on the hem of her blazer to make sure it fit right, and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Glasses sitting squarely on her nose.

"Hello again, Santana," Artie greeted her from the desk across from her. His eyes were dark and she met them with a glare of her own.

She didn't respond, only looked around her new habitat. She had a view of him, a computer monitor, to the left of her was the audience, and to the right, the projection screen. Santana pulled her keyboard and mouse into comfortable positions and looked to Holly for direction. The professor was talking to the audience, explaining the rules and trying to gather some of the hype lost in the delay. She was glad that she already knew the rules and game play. She eyed the buzzer that would be used for the question and answer portion, the little light on top of her computer monitor.

Artie seemed to be determined to get a rise out of her, "How are you?"

"Ready to kick you ass," Santana offered shortly. There were a few laughs from the audience and she knew that everything she was saying was being amplified by the microphones.

"I'm surprised you decided to show," he taunted lightly.

"I'm not scared of you," Santana didn't realized how much it was true until she had said it with such a definite tone. It almost took her by surprise and looked like it did startle the man in front of her, if his nervous twitch of adjusting his bangs said anything.

She stared him down until he looked away. The smirk on her face came subconsciously, realizing that when Holly asked, "Are my contestants ready?"

She was so ready.

* * *

><p>Santana tapped her finger against the buzzer, waiting for the next question. She was ahead by three. Artie was probably regretting calling her up here by now. Sure, there was plenty of game play left, and anything could happen, but in the back of her head Santana was feeling good about this. She recrossed her ankles under the desk and sat up straighter; she had this in the bag.<p>

"This programing language was originally designed for processing text," Holly read the next question aloud as it showed on the monitor in front of her, "and has become one of the most popular languages for writing CGI scripts."

She hit her buzzer, but Artie got to it first. Santana sat back casually, and waited for him to answer. She wanted to glare at him, throw her keyboard at him, anything, but it would serve her better to look confident even if he has the opportunity to answer a question. She was still in the lead and he's been hating it. Hating her casual confidence and disinterested attitude. He wanted her to squirm and because that's not happening, he's the one fidgeting behind his desk.

"Visual Basic Scripting," Artie answers.

Santana looks at Holly to catch the professor's smile, "I'm sorry, but that's incorrect. Miss Lopez, you have a chance to take the point."

"Practical Extraction and Report Language," Santana supplied, as she studies her nails. Her subtle confidence is slipping into a cocky show and she knows it. She looked from her nails to Artie and smiled, "Commonly known as Perl."

"That's correct!" Holly isn't even trying to hide her enthusiasm for Santana's lead, "Lopez, six. Abrams, two."

He swears under his breath.

"Explain the concept of an evil twin."

Santana was first to hit the buzzer this time, "An evil twin is a fake WiFi hotspot gimmick. It's set up with software that finds and mirrors a real hotspot's SSID so that users will log into their malicious network, that gives the hacker an opportunity to intercept personal information."

A handful of members of the audience, maybe towards Clockwork's booth started cheering even before Holly announced her answer to be correct and when that happened the rest of the audience joined in. It was a feeling Santana had never experienced before. The mass of bodies on the floor, they were on her side, rooting for her. They wanted her to succeed. It was almost more disconcerting than the heavy stage lights and the rally of questions. This crowd wasn't here to judge her or tear her down, they hadn't even expected her to be there, but somehow they chose her over Artie as the favorite.

She readjusted her hand over the buzzer, waiting for the next question. There was a small smirk on her face, the hint of a confidence that was no longer forced. She glanced over to Artie, the sweat on his forehead shining in the harsh lights. He looked so frustrated that Santana was surprised that he could even hear the questions.

"Name three e-commerce business models."

Again, Santana's light was flashing before Artie's. She took her time to send him a smile before answering the question.

* * *

><p>"I don't even know what they're talking about," Quinn huffed, her nerves turning into agitation.<p>

"I think I knew the answer for the last one," Brittany didn't take her eyes off Santana as she spoke, "but that's only because Mike and Sam were talking about it the other day."

"At least she's winning," Quinn bit her lip, her eyes kept skating to the big screen, waiting for any signs of foul play. "Did she..."

Brittany looked away from Santana to watch Quinn struggle with her words.

"Tell me about what Artie did to her final project?" Brittany finished tightly. "Yeah, she did."

Quinn only looked surprised for a moment, "She really does tell you everything."

"I had to needle," Brittany glanced back to the stage, watching Santana answer another question correctly.

"She still told you," Quinn said quietly, "that's kind of a big deal."

"I know," Brittany breathed thinly. "Quinn, if he hurts her, I swear..."

"I know," Quinn shook her head with a grim smile. "I'll be the first to help, trust me."

* * *

><p>Holly was probably more excited that she won round one than she was. The professor was just about skipping around the stage singing her praises.<p>

"And Santana takes round one!" she placed one hand on Santana's shoulder, beaming to the audience. "With an impressive score of ten to five. I can't say I'm surprised, I taught her everything she knows."

Santana laughed, glancing up at Holly then leaning forward slightly to see if she could get a view of Brittany. She could, Brittany and Quinn were standing just past a stagehand and both looked ridiculously excited for her, and it almost covered up their uncertainty. They still didn't like that Santana was out in the open like that, on a stage with _him._ It didn't matter, Santana could see the shine in Brittany's eyes, the ecstatic adoration.

That was all that mattered,

"Now, the next portion of our challenge will be a practical application of their field," Holly told the audience, staying resolutely at Santana's shoulder. "During the first round our team has selected programs for each competitor to complete on the computer they have in front of them. This program will mimic troubleshooting and system maintenance that they might find on a daily basis as IT professionals. First player to pass their hurdles and complete the program, wins!"

Santana shifted her seat, moving towards the computer screen in front of her and glancing at the screen. Right now it was showing a picture of the expo's logo, but she was ready for that to change. The screen will come to life, she'll have to run though a troubleshoot program like the ones Holly used to have her students do in college classes.

Easy.

* * *

><p>Brittany had always thought that Santana could type fast, and she thought she had seen her at her fastest, but she was wrong. Santana's fingers were flying. She could see what Santana was typing, her monitor was being displayed on the large projection screen next to one of Artie's. It looked like a foreign language.<p>

"I have no idea what's going on, but it looks like she's kicking his ass," Quinn said what Brittany was thinking.

"Yeah," Brittany agreed, "I'm pretty sure Holly thinks so too."

Quinn looked over, the professor was watching along with everyone else, adding in commentary every now and then. The grin on her face was so telling. Santana was ahead of Artie by a long shot. The black command window in her screen was alive with prompts and cues and Santana was on a roll. Her bottom lips tucked into her mouth and her brows furrowed in concentration, Brittany wished that she had brought her camera from the Clockwork booth. Santana, confident and competitive, was beautiful. Brittany needed something, so she pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a quick snapshot.

"Good thinking," Quinn smirked, "I want to remember this day for the rest of my life."

"I think she will too," Brittany didn't want to count her chickens before they hatched, but she had the feeling that Santana was going to win.

"I say we rush the stage and jump him after she wins," Quinn looked around, "or find some sort of food product to throw at him."

Brittany laughed despite herself, "I told him to stay the hell away from her. I can't decide if I want to give him a piece of my mind after this or let Santana's win do the talking."

"I'm sure she wouldn't want us causing any more of a fuss than this already is," Quinn nearly pouted, "he looks like such an ass right now, calling her out only to get the crap beaten out of him."

"I wonder if he'll ever stop underestimating her," Brittany sighed quietly.

There's a thoughtful pause, both women giving the idea a fair about of consideration. They turn from the stage at the same time.

"Not a chance."

"In hell."

* * *

><p>Santana never knew she could feel so satisfied with a single keystroke.<p>

But she hit that enter key and it felt damn good.

The light on her monitor lit up with the flashing shine of success. She had beaten Artie Abrams in the Titans of Tech challenge and she was simply thrilled, inwardly of course. On the outside she held a calmly modest smile, like she was surprised that she won.

Right.

When the applause and cheers died down Holly was able to announce her the official winner of that years competition. Holly didn't even try to hold back how excited she was for her, or that she knew Santana was going to win all along, or that Artie never stood a chance. In fact, she didn't even recognize Artie for an obligatory, thanks for competing, round of applause.

Santana stood from her desk and walked around it. She made sure to take off her headset as Artie was doing the same. She didn't say anything, she wasn't sure if she had a single thing to say to the man, she simply held out her hand. A handshake after a competition was proper, it was commendable, it was above the level of decency she thought he deserved, but she had to try.

Something was telling her to try.

He looked at her hand, then up to her, a dark sneer marring his face as he said, "One more way I've made you look better."

Santana dropped her hand, "You're kidding me, right?"

He rolled away and Santana didn't dwell on it, Holly was shuffling her towards the front of the stage to make a quick chat session and welcome everyone to stick around for Santana's presentation later in the day.

"Remember folds," Holly told the crowd as Santana walked off the stage, "I taught her everything she knows."

Santana burst into laughter, a deliriously happy laugh that shook her to her core. She laughed into Brittany's arms and smiled all the way back to the Clockwork booth while Brittany and Quinn told her how they were making bets as to how much she would win by.

* * *

><p>"I heard this terrible noise, I thought a truck had crashed into the side of the building, the power went out in the entire building," Holly places a hand over her heart, feigning her true concern.<p>

Santana rolls her eyes, fidgeting in her seat next to Brittany. After the competition, Holly was free to grab lunch with them as there were no presentations until around one.

She was using the opportunity to give Brittany a small insight into Santana's college days, mush to Santana's embarrassment.

"So I rush into the lab, and she's standing there with a fire extinguisher and a pile of something that could have been her robotics project."

"I destroyed it," Santana shrugged, a small smile on her face. Scooting the tomatoes in her salad towards the corner of the plastic bin.

"You were covered in that white powder from the fire extinguisher," Holly chuckled.

"It took me forever to get that crap out of my hair," Santana groaned at the memory, and Brittany laughed.

"You're lucky you didn't get hurt."

Santana rolled her eyes and picked at her salad, "It wasn't all that bad."

"I think she's a lot safer in the lab now," Brittany admitted, she had never seen anything worse than a small cut from sharp sheet metal.

"Tell me again," Holly pleaded, "because I can't seem to get my head around how you two were able to keep away from each other for so long."

"That's easy," Santana told her, "we were being professionals."

"A professional prude more like it," Holly scoffed before taking a drink of her water. "You wouldn't shut up about the journalist following you around the office."

Brittany caught the annoyed and mildly embarrassed look Santana sent the professor, "That's not even fair, I didn't even know if she dated women, how was I supposed to know it would be okay to make a move?"

"Somehow I doubt you would have made a move even if you did know," Holly teases, very accurately.

Santana looked at Brittany, "Yeah, probably not."

"I don't think I would have been able to let you just walk away though," Brittany picked up one of Santana's discarded tomatoes and popped it into her mouth. "We would have figured it out eventually."

The certainty in her voice, that they would have come together somehow, made Santana's heart race. Brittany had so much faith, in them and in her. She still wasn't sure she deserved it, but she would sure as hell try.

"You two have got to come out to California this summer," Holly changes the subject easily, sensing Santana's private moment. "I'm putting together this program for teenage girls interested in computer science and robotics."

Santana perked up at that, "Really, at UCLA?"

"Yeah, it's shaping out to be about two weeks long, the girls will stay in the dorms," she explained. "We'll take over the computer science class rooms and the labs and it's going to be girls on gadgets galore."

"That sounds like a lot of fun," Brittany smiled, watching the gears turn behind Santana's head.

"Who's teaching, just you?" Santana asked.

"Well I was thinking about bringing a few people into the mix," Holly pondered coyly. "You know anyone that would be free?"

"I'm sure I could convince somebody to do it," Santana shrugged, already planing her vacation.

* * *

><p>"How are you feeling?" Brittany asked with a small smile.<p>

They were backstage, Santana was getting fitted for her presentation and Brittany had come along for the ride, and because Santana had asked her to.

"I feel great," Santana licked her lips, searching herself for the crippling anxiety she had expected. She couldn't find it. "After this morning? I feel like I could give my presentation naked."

Brittany laughed, shaking her head to clear the image, "I kinda saw something like that this weekend, and trust me, I loved it, but I don't want everyone else to see it too."

Santana snorted, remembering how she ran through her presentation a few times with Brittany as an audience this weekend. She might not have been wearing anything more than a tank top and a borrowed pair of Brittany's boxer shorts. She almost felt bad because Brittany's probably seen this presentation more times than she should have been subjected too and has to sit through it again.

"No, you're right," Santana chuckled, "I don't know why, Britt... I just feel good."

"Well, you look good," Brittany said quietly, brushing a stray hair from Santana's shoulder and catching her eyes, "great even."

Santana flushed, her eyes falling to the small device in her hand that will let her change the slides of her presentation at will. Even after the months they had been together, Brittany could still make the butterflies stir in her stomach. She coughed into the back of her fist, trying to save face, trying to ignore how the blue eyes in front of her were sparkling knowingly.

"You're going to be awesome," she told Santana with every bit of confidence she's always afforded her.

Santana squeezed her hand and didn't say anything, she didn't have to. She knew Brittany understood how much it meant to her to be supportive like this, so easily confident in her abilities that it seemed almost silly to doubt herself.

Holly walked towards them, "Good luck, Santana. You're gonna bring the house down."

"You mean for the second time," Santana quipped, smiling when Holly laughed.

"I guess you don't really need me to be your hype man then, do you?" Holly straightened her shirt and adjusting her headset. She was getting ready to announce Santana to the stage for her presentation. Again, Santana had the idea that Holly was more excited than she was.

"I'd hate for your talent to go to waste."

"I think you just like hearing me talk about you."

Santana shrugged simply, "Who wouldn't?"

"I'll see you out there," she threw them one last smile and walked onto the stage.

Santana watched her go, noticing how easily she addresses the audience, the way her smile was genuine and fun loving, how she interacted with the crowd like she was born to do it.

"She's always been such a showboat," Santana said not unkindly, with a hint of a smirk on her face.

Brittany glanced from Santana to Holly and back, "Is she like this when she's teaching?"

"Worse," Santana rolled her eyes, "because she always gets to know her students really well and calls them out on stuff. It's like a college lecture mixed with a comedy act. It was awesome."

Brittany slipped her arm around Santana's waist and squeezed, "You're going to be awesome too, just have fun with it."

Hearing Holly's cue, Santana shuffled a small half step closer to the journalist and pressed a chaste kiss to the curve of her chin, "I'll try."

* * *

><p>Holly actually did a great job introducing Santana, she even stayed on the stage to have a little talk about the convention and remind the audience that Santana had just won the Titans of Tech competition. Their small conversation lasted long enough to make Santana feel more than comfortable on stage and Santana was glad for it.<p>

She got right into her presentation after that, speaking confidently and with a coy smile that Brittany recognized from the mornings they spent at the COG when Santana was telling everyone about a new idea she had. She was in her zone, gesturing calmly, speaking eloquently, and holding a smiley face pen.

Brittany was delighted, standing with Holly and Quinn in the sidelines. Santana's gaggle of blondes, all watching with proud smiles.

"In the past year, Clockwork has taken a new interest in the world of cloud computing and enabling it to be a stable part of a company's business computing model."

Brittany watched her walk the stage, moving in timed practice. She knew that every bit of this presentation was planned out. Everything from the pauses in dialogue to the hand gestures. Santana was a nervous speaker and rehearsals were one of the only things that could keep her calm. If she squinted, Brittany could make out the ever present death grip Santana had on the smiley face pen.

"We all understand that with new technologies come new vulnerabilities to our systems and their security," Santana explained through her presentation, "and while cloud computing is versatile and efficient; that fluidity also has the prospect of being taken advantage of."

"She's fucking brilliant," Holly declared under her breath, Brittany and Quinn nod.

They watched, Brittany knowing exactly what to expect—until that happened.

Santana's screen, the huge stage projection board, blanked out. Santana stared at it, wide eyed and slack jawed. Her eyes darted to Holly, who was already trying to figure out what was going wrong.

"Get a computer," Holly said to anyone, maybe even herself as she rushes off, "I need my computer."

Quinn was still looking at the screen, a horrible feeling in her chest, she sent Brittany a look, "I'm finding Abrams. If he's within rolling distance to a computer I'm going to rip his fingers off one by one."

Brittany's watching Santana, standing frozen on the stage, lost in her own private fear and the idea of what might happen next.

"Brittany," Holly's voice catches her attention and Brittany looked over to where she was setting up her laptop, "go and help her out."

"What?" Brittany asked, confused, "Quinn?"

"No, Santana," she throws a sympathetic look to her former student, the screen has turned an eerie black, "someone's fucking with her presentation. I'm going to try to get them to cut off the projector—if they wont I'm going to do it myself."

"You can do that?"

"There's not much I can't do with a computer," Holly points to the stage, "now get out there and help a girl out. Stall if you can or help her through the presentation, her speech is on the display on the front of the stage."

"I can't read," Brittany said without thinking.

"What?"

Brittany doesn't even bother correcting herself, she just holds her hand out, "Give me your headset."

Holly doesn't argue.

Brittany's on the stage in a second. The lights are bright against her eyes and it doesn't help her nerves. She's not a good public speaker either; she tried it, failed, and was much happier behind the safe realm of a pen and paper. She spared a look to the small monitors that display the notes of the speaker, they look like a jumbled mess of letters, pulsing and shifting, she can't focus on them. She's never hated her dyslexia more than right now.

Hopefully she wont need the notes.

"Hey, everyone!" she smiles warmly to the audience, "Sorry about the interruption, but as you can see, we're having some minor technical difficulties. It'll be fixed real soon, I promise."

She's next to Santana now, and her heart clenches at the look on her face. She's so scared; her eyes are darting from Brittany to the projection screen and back. Brittany covers her microphone and says, "Holly's working on it, don't worry."

"Britt," Santana says in a deceptively calm whisper. She's about to freak out.

"Trust me," Brittany gives her a promise she can't exactly keep, all she knows is that people that care about Santana are working on it; working to help her, protect her, and save her from her worst nightmare.

"So how is everyone?" Brittany diverts her attention to the audience, trying to give them something else to look at besides Santana standing stock still. There's a mild rumble of a response. She laughs, keeping her spirits up, "I'm glad, my names Brittany S. Pierce and I'm a journalist with a magazine called _The Lead_, had anyone heard of it?"

There's a slightly larger rumble.

"That's great!" Brittany is actually kind of excited for that response, "Then maybe you read the article I wrote on yours truly, Miss Santana Lopez."

The round of applause is telling, and Santana is startled into a small awkward wave of acknowledgment, a hesitant smile on her face. They both miss the way the screen flickers behind them.

"Well, while I was shadowing, Miss Lopez around Clockwork," Brittany sends her a reassuring and remembering smile, "I was able to watch her finish up this project of hers. The one she was just about to tell you all about."

Santana looks at her, confused, but trying to follow her lead.

"Even now, I still don't know as much as you guys know about all this techie stuff, I mean, you have information floating around in the clouds," Brittany jokes easily.

That earns a laugh, and gives Brittany some confidence. Santana's lips quirk into a slow smile.

"And like Miss Lopez was saying," she continues, "you put the information out there in that nice puffy cloud, even when you think it's too high in the sky for anyone to reach, there's always a chance that someone can fly over and steal a piece of your cloud, but her new software and programs, offered through Clockwork, will let you put as much information as you want in those clouds without needing to worry."

Brittany looking over to Santana, encouraging her to take the lead, continued her presentation.

"That's right, Miss Pierce," Santana starts out in a quiet voice.

Brittany remembered what Santana was going to talk about next, "Now, what security problems do people normally run into when they're working with clouds?"

Santana blinked, she knew the answer, she just didn't understand how Brittany could turn her presentation into a question and answer skit. If she had any hesitation, Brittany's calm and interested eyes sold her, suddenly she wasn't on a stage in front of an audience; if she looked really hard she could pretend that they were back in her lab, just the two of them and Santana was only talking to her, just answering another of Brittany's questions, "A few common security concerns for cloud computing are..."

Santana fell into it easily, answering Brittany's questions and running through all the material that she had planned on saying anyway. Brittany remembered it all. She hit every bullet and every topic of Santana's original presentation and even peppered in a few jokes for entertainment's sake. She was almost as good as Holly.

They didn't even miss a beat when Santana's presentation appeared on the screen and a triumphant, _"Yes! Shove it, Abrams!"_ called out from backstage.

"And what is this all called?" Brittany asked with a private smile, "The cloud security system from Clockwork?"

Santana flicked through the presentation slides until she got to the final page, a mockup design for the new product logo and cover, "I call it Snixware."


End file.
